Slaughtered Bears
by booknerd95
Summary: Octavian wasn't always insane. He once was a respected soldier and colleague until he was kidnapped. Then everything changed, and not for the better.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Octavian woke up to an awful throbbing pain in his wrists and stomach. His head ached considerably and it felt like there was strip of cloth wound around his head and stuffed into his mouth, gagging him. His arms were twisted in an uncomfortable angle behind his back, bound with course rope that dug into the fair skin around his wrists. The cyclops that held him captive had him slung over one shoulder like a sack of grain, making his stomach sore as well as his back.

"Did you get them?" a clearly human male asked.

"Four of them," the cyclops replied. "Two boys, two girls. They all look strong enough."

"Good, good. Well, you know where to put them. Make sure their bounds are tight and tie ropes around their ankles. We don't want our _guests _escaping."

"Yes, sir," the monster grumbled.

After a few minutes of being jostled on the monster's mammoth sized shoulder, Octavian was dumped on the ground. Three more muffled _oomphs _followed his. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting as he rolled onto his stomach to avoid hurting his arms and wrists further. Fat, chubby fingers brushed his cheeks as the gag was removed. They moved down to his feet as his shoes and shocks were pulled off. Another length of rope was pulled out and tied around his ankles, leaving about two feet of length between his ankles so that he could at least walk a little bit, but not enough so that he could run. The same was done to all the other demigods who were kidnapped just like him.

With his head throbbing and it being night, he felt he could no longer keep his eyes open. He slipped into a very deep sleep for the next couple of hours. When he awoke, light was streaming in through the partially boarded windows. They were in some sort of abandoned house, he figured. The floorboards left splinters in his bare skin if he ever moved. Plus they were absolutely _filthy. _What he wouldn't give to be back in Camp Jupiter and visit the bath houses. Oh, that certainly brought back good memories.

He was lying comfortably on his side, well as comfortable as he could be. He struggled to get himself into a sitting position with his back against the wall. Only one of the other hostages in the room was awake. Octavian recognized him as the brute child of the Second Cohort. He was named appropriately enough to match the animal he most resembled, an ox. Ox was a large boy that at least stood well over six feet tall. His military buzz cut hard and cold, hard eyes made him a scary look-a-like of the Roman god of war, Mars.

"At least someone's awake," Ox said, his voice deep like thunder.

"Where do you think we are?" Octavian asked.

"Don't know. Far away from camp that's all I can say. Do you remember anything?"

Octavian frowned. All he could remember was falling asleep back in his comfortable bed back at Camp Jupiter. Next thing he knew was that he was slung over the shoulder of a Cyclops. Nothing made sense at the moment. Monsters weren't able to get into Camp Jupiter, with it being protected by the Little Tiber and Terminus it was practically impossible. Sure nothing was fool proof, but rarely did monsters penetrate the boarders and if they did, they were easily subdued and killed before they caused much trouble. How did this happen then? How were four soldiers of Rome kidnapped? It just didn't make any sense.

For the first time in a very long time, Octavian felt completely helpless. He was a centurion of the First Cohort. He was son of one of the greatest legacies in Camp Jupiter. His father Gaius was a powerful and influential man. Everyone loved him and looked up at him as the natural born leader he was. His father became centurion of the First Cohort and was elected as one of the camps praetors. Octavian had large shoes to fill if he was ever to live up to his father's expectations.

Eventually the other two hostages woke up. One of the girl's was from the Third Cohort. Her name was Emily. She was a thin, wiry girl with thin brown hair. He couldn't see her brand, but assumed her to be a child of some earth goddess. The earth toned brown hair and forest green eyes gave it all away. The other girl was from the First Cohort along with him. He knew her quite well as they usually trained together. Her name was Anika. She had the godly beauty of her ancestor Venus. With the dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, she could make any man fall for her.

"What do you think they want us for?" Emily asked as she eyed the room for any possible route of escape.

They had all assessed their current predicament dozens of times by know. None of them had any weapons on them. They were probably taken away when they were kidnapped. With their hands behind their backs, they wouldn't be able to untie their bonds and escape. If they did escape by some miracle, they would have no idea of where to go. The best they could all figure was that they were trapped in some abandoned house.

"Maybe they're trying to make us join up with Saturn," Octavian concluded. "It's the only logical solution."

"What would Saturn want with us?" Ox asked. It was true that Saturn was rising from the depths of Tartarus piece by piece. Scouts had reported that on Mount Tam, the throne of the Titan was rebuilding itself. Monsters were being drawn in by his evil intent to destroy the gods and their thrones on Mount Olympus.

"He's always looking for monsters and demigods to join his cause remember?" Anika said. "He's probably going to find some way to force us to join up."

"Or he'll try and get the camp's weaknesses out of us," Emily added. "He might be planning an invasion to wipe out Camp Jupiter. That means he'll torture us for answers."

"Don't be jumping to conclusions," Anika hissed. "We don't know that for sure. Besides, we are soldiers of Rome. We can stand up against anything he throws at us."

Octavian agreed with what Anika had said. Soldiers of Rome were known for the fierce reputation as fighters. They had to keep the Twelfth Legion going. They couldn't let the strong Roman spirit die. They would just have to show these monsters what happens when someone messes with a soldier of Rome.

The four hostages spent many hours chatting and trying to figure out what exactly happened that ended up in them being held captive. It wasn't until loud footsteps neared the room they were in that they quieted down.

"Breakfast!" a much too cheery voice said. "Actually, I think this would be considered lunch for you people, but oh well! We're all human and we all make mistakes from time to time." Their deliverer of food was a male demigod and was around the same age as them, sixteen or seventeen. There was something about him, though. When Octavian looked him directly in the eyes, a shiver went down his spine. There was something missing in those eyes, and he couldn't help but think he would be seeing those eyes very often.

Their breakfast, or lunch, was just plain oatmeal with some chunks of slightly rotten fruit thrown on top. The demigod placed a bowl in front of each of the hostages. "Eat up!" he said. "We can't have you very well starving now can we?"

"How are we even supposed to eat with our hands tied?" Ox asked and tugged at his bonds, but even with his brute strength he couldn't rip through the cords around his wrists.

The demigod shrugged. "That's not for me to figure out." He set down the last bowl, stood up straight, and smiled. "Well, enjoy. See you for supper." He quickly left the room, humming to himself.

Octavian shifted until he was positioned on his chins, back hunched. He looked at the other hostages and then down at the food in front of him. "There's only one way we'll be able to eat this," he said. "We'll have to lick it up."

The others looked slightly disappointed. It was so degrading to eat like an animal, but seeing as there was no other choice; they would have to damn their pride for the time being. The demigods ate silently. It was tricky, at first. The bowls would slide around on the ground until they figured out how to pin them still. The meal was also quite messy. There was no possible way to avoid getting lukewarm oats stuck to their cheeks. Overall it was a terrible experience, one that would be repeated several times a day for as long as they were held captive.

Once the bowl was mostly empty, Octavian pressed his aching back against the wall behind him. Then he stretched out his legs before him to get the blood circulating once more. He rubbed his face onto his t-shirt and pants to try and get off as much food as he could. His clothing wasn't going to get any cleaner.

After the food was eaten, the hostages fell silent. Each of them was trying to make sense of the situation around them. What would Saturn want with them? Was this some sort of new recruitment campaign? Kidnap demigods and force them to serve him? It didn't make much sense to Octavian, but whatever was going to happen, it wasn't going to be good.

Ox was the first to break the silence. "I say the next time one of them comes in here we take 'em down."

Anika rolled her eyes. "And how do you suggest we do that?" she asked. "Haven't you noticed that we are tied up and vulnerable? Besides, that cyclops would be able to crush your skull in."

Ox rolled his shoulders as much as he could. "There are other ways," he said. "All we have to do is knock out its knees. Then it'll topple and we'll be able to subdue it. No sweat."

"And if it comes with back up?"

Ox was silent. He didn't have a response.

"I think we should wait," said Octavian.

The all looked to him. "Why?" asked Emily. "Every moment we sit here and do nothing is another moment that our energy is wasted."

"We can't jump into things," he reasoned. "We know nothing about our current situation other than it's bad. We have to wait it out, see what the enemy is planning, and then strike. The more we know, the better our situation will be."

Ox squared his shoulders. He nodded in approval of Octavian's plan. The girls agreed as well.

"Okay," Octavian said and licked his dry lips. "The first thing we need to learn is the schedule of our kidnappers. Who comes in when and if it ever rotates. Once that is complete, we can figure out which one to take down. I suggest we avoid any monsters and go for the demigods. It'll be easier and less dangerous that way."

"Like the demigod that gave us our food?" Anika asked.

He nodded. "Exactly. He looked a little wiry to me. He probably won't be that strong."

"An easy take down," Ox said and grinned. "I like it."

"We're soldiers of Rome," Octavian continued. "Everything is going to be fine. Within a few days, we'll be out of here. The enemy should think twice about messing with us." That in itself lifted everyone's spirits a tiny smidge. They were all going to be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for my lack of introduction last chapter. I was kind of too excited to post the story and completely forgot about introduction and disclaimer for that matter. My apologies, Rick Riordan. I was just too excited. So here is the disclaimer.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Octavian or any element related to the Heroes of Olympus and Percy Jackson and the Olympians franchise. So for every chapter that is posted for this story, let it be known that I do not own any of these ideas. Rick Riordan does and forever will.**

**There. Step 1, complete.**

**If you are joining us for the first time and don't know me as a writer, let's put it this way. I do not write happy stories. Happy and me do not get along. This story is going to focus on Octavian and how he became the character we know in the Heroes of Olympus story. Personally, I like Octavian. Like I'm team Octavian. Does that make sense? So he may seem OOC during my story but that's because I'm showing how he evolved into the crazy, bear killing, augur that he is in SoN and such. So bear with me. **

**Also, time wise this story takes place between The Titan's Curse and The Battle of the Labyrinth. So I guess Octavian is like sixteen I guess. So that's about it. Review comments will now be down below. Enjoy chapter two!**

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Chapter Two

Dreams were never just dreams for demigods. For Octavian more so. Octavian was a descendant of Apollo. And because of that he had a special talent to receive visions from the gods of the past, present and future. He chose to ignore most of them. He wanted to go for camp praetor, not camp augur. Being praetor held the real power in the camp. The augur was just a fancy position that gave one a ceremonial blade. Not something that interested Octavian.

Octavian dreamt every night of his life. When he was younger, he had been frightened of the dreams. Some had been too disturbing for a young child to witness. Those were the days when Octavian still had his mother to chase away those night terrors. She had said to him one night, _"If a bad dream scares you, then scare it back and you'll wake up!" _It was something she had taught him to help him through the nights if she was never there, which happened to be often.

Even though he was sixteen and no longer five, he sometimes used the old tactic to help him sleep better at night. During the second night of his imprisonment he fell on old habits.

His dream was of his mother, Calliope. From when it was taking place it wasn't going to be a pleasant dream.

Calliope was a beautiful woman. She was graceful in her movements like a dancer. Her beauty caught the attention of all the young men in the five cohorts when she had trained with the rest of the campers. Her hair was as bright as the sun and her eyes as clear as the sky on a hot summer day. Of course Gaius, Octavian's father, fell for her and fell for her hard. The wedding was something many people would never forget.

But Calliope was not always bright and cheerful. She often suffered from bouts of depression. Those days she would often lie in bed for hours on end. Not even the sun could cheer her up on those days. Octavian remembered how pale and sickly she looked. But whenever she saw him she would smile and invite him to snuggle under the covers with her. Octavian treasured those days dearly for soon they would stop all together.

The dream brought forth a memory that Octavian liked to keep buried deep down inside of himself. Before his mother died, he had a dream about her, the way she would _go out _as it were. Because of this dream he was scared. He went to Calliope. She comforted him, held him in his arms until the lasting visions of the nightmare evaporated.

The next day she died. Just as the dream foretold.

Octavian woke up to a dark room. The air was so thick it was choking him. He rolled onto his stomach and, with much effort, pushed himself into a kneeling position. He forced himself to take in deep breaths and relax. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. When the panic cleared, the thickness of the air disappeared. He could hear the soft breaths of the other hostages around him. They were still asleep.

He leaned back against the wall and listened for anything that could help him determine where he was being held. He pressed his ear against the rough wood of the wall. He could make out the faint chirps of crickets and nothing else. No significant land marks like an ocean or a highway. Crickets meant they could be anywhere in the world. That meant chances for rescue were slim.

Sleep did not follow after he had calmed himself. It was eluding him. He would receive no more rest for the remainder of the night. This happened often. Many nights at Camp Jupiter were spent like this. He did not let it interfere with his training. Besides, this way he could have more time thinking up escape plans and back up plans to those escape plans. One could never be too prepared.

When he heard humming, he nudged the others awake with his foot. "Someone's coming," he whispered.

Soon enough the door opened. The light above them was turned on. The hostages squinted and blinked until the yellow and black spots disappeared. The demigod from yesterday continued to hum as he balanced their breakfast tray on his hands. The tune was familiar to Octavian. Though, he couldn't put a name to it.

"Good morning, my lovelies," the demigod said and grinned. He bent down to Octavian's level. This way Octavian got a good look at one of his captors.

The demigod had brown hair that was a complete rat's nest. His blue eyes unnerved Octavian slightly. They were so piercing he was certain they were staring at his soul. A scar on his face was his most defining feature. It started on his lip, slightly disfiguring his face whenever he smiled. It extended along his cheek bone in a jagged line and ended somewhere in his hair line.

"Checking out the battle wound, aren't you?" the demigod said, snapping Octavian out of his reverie. The demigod traced the scar and shivered. "Beautiful, isn't it? Got that from an angry empousai. But enough about me, what about yourself? Got any delightful tales of escaping death?"

Octavian was silent. The less he told his captor about himself, the less his captor would have to work with. But his captor was smarter than he gave him credit for.

A bony hand shot out and gripped Octavian's jaw. Sharp fingernails dug into his fair skin as it pried his mouth open.

"So you do have a tongue," the demigod said. "That's good, that's very good. That means you'll be able to answer my questions. Now, first off I want your name. I'll tell you mine if you give me yours," he taunted in a singsong manner.

The pressure of the fingernails slackened. Octavian stared back defiantly at the teen before him. He could tell that the silence was getting to him. One of the demigod's eyes twitched ever so slightly. If he hadn't been looking for it, he would've missed it.

After an intense moment passed, the demigod smiled, ruffled Octavian's hair and stood up. His left foot was slightly forward. "Someone's taught you well," he crooned. His left foot shot out and kicked Octavian in his side. It wouldn't have been all that bad if the demigod hadn't been wearing steel toed boots. That made it hurt even more.

While Octavian gasped and curled up on his side, the demigod stepped away and began to pace back and forth. "Let this be a lesson," he said. "If you don't answer my questions, you will suffer the consequences."

"And what consequences will that be?" Ox asked.

The demigod whipped around and looked down at Ox. "Oh that is for me to know and for you to find out. Have a nice day." He winked and left the room, shutting the door in his wake.

Anika got to her knees and shuffled over to Octavian's side. "Are you alright?" she asked. "That looked like a hard blow."

Octavian wheezed and grimaced. It was indeed a hard blow. "I'll be fine," he said and sat up with great difficulty. "Nothing's broken. It was just a warning."

"A warning we should pay attention to," Emily said. "I don't know what you guys think, but that demigod has something wrong with him. We shouldn't anger him."

"If we give him any information, he'll be able to manipulate us easier," Octavian reasoned. "We should just stay silent."

"He just kicked you," she said. "Who knows what else he could do to us. I saw we answer his questions. That way he'll be pleased and we'll remain safe until our rescuers come. Self preservation, right?"

Octavian glared at her. "The safety of Camp Jupiter and New Rome rests on our shoulders. We can't give into the enemy's demands. No matter what will happen."

Emily sighed and leaned against the wall. Her eyebrows were drawn together in deep thought. Obviously she didn't like his views on the situation. But this was the only way for the means of survival. If the captors wanted something from them, they wouldn't be so hasty as to kill them right away. Octavian would play their games, but on his terms. The longer he could keep them entertained, the more time their soon-be rescuers had in finding them.

After lapping up a poor excuse for porridge, Octavian rested as much as he could, building up strength for when his captors would return. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The ribs that had been kicked were throbbing. As long as there was no stabbing back, he would be alright. Broken bones were something he didn't need.

The demigods were quiet for most of the day. They were all trying to make sense of the situation. What did their captors want from them? The only logical solution would be to gain information about Camp Jupiter's defences. But Octavian had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't that simple. It'd be easier to send in a spy than sneaking in and kidnapping several demigods.

His thoughts were disturbed by heavy footsteps. The door squeaked open. He opened his eyes and looked up at the cyclops.

"On your feet," it said.

The demigods, knowing that they would receive no help in standing, struggled to their feet. Octavian braced himself against the wall, knees tucked to his chest and stood. The cyclops reached forward and pulled Octavian to the door. Then he was shoved forward with the others following behind him. It was nothing to get excited about. This same thing happened yesterday just after their dinner meals had arrived. It was a bathroom run. Obviously their captors didn't want them soiling themselves. That would only make things worse.

There were four doors on one side of this hallway. The demigods each stood in front of one of them and waited as the cyclops removed the cords around their wrists. Then with a sharp nudge they were pushed into the bathrooms, if they could be called that.

The bathrooms could be more accurately referred to as outhouses. The toilet was set up over a large hole in the ground that constantly reeked of raw sewage. There was no sink. Instead there was a metal bucket in one of the corners filled with stale water. It wasn't a five star hotel bathroom, but Octavian couldn't afford to be choosey.

He took the time to work out the kinks in his back and shoulders. Having his hands free was a luxury. He didn't untie the rope around his ankles, though. It was useless since the cyclops would only check the ropes on his ankles anyway.

After relieving himself, Octavian took a moment to drink from the bucket. His captors weren't so generous with giving water. The water was clean enough. It wasn't stagnant so he knew he wouldn't get sick from drinking it. Once he had his fill, he used the rest of his time to stretch his sore arms before they would be forced behind his back. These bathroom runs lasted only five minutes and so far he didn't know how many times they happened a day. He used them to the fullest advantage.

The door was opened. Octavian shuffled out and placed his hands behind his back. The cyclops roughly bound his wrists, making it tighter than before. He didn't complain. He knew that his complaints would fall on deaf ears. He kept quiet.

He was shoved back into the room once more. Emily and Anika were already sitting down, but Ox was pacing restlessly. He looked to Octavian, jaw clenched. The cyclops closed the door. No sounds of locks being turned caught Octavian's attention. Apparently their captors didn't need to, seeing as their hostages were bound securely.

"I don't like this," Ox said. He sounded eerily calm. "I don't like being treated like an animal."

"I don't think any of us do," Octavian said and shuffled over to his usual corner before sitting down.

"I say we break out of here," the large demigod said.

Octavian snorted. "That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard of. And where would you go if you broke out? What would you do? Your arms are tied behind your back. That cyclops would kill you in five seconds."

"Well at least I'm trying to think of a way to escape," Ox retorted. "You, on the other hand, just sit there with your eyes closed, ignoring the fact that we need to find a way out." He stopped pacing and looked down at the blond demigod. "You're a pathetic excuse for a Roman."

Octavian only relaxed where he sat, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. "If you want to go and get yourself killed, then by all means go."

Ox took two steps forward. Even though his stride was hampered by the hobbles, he still covered a great distance in those two steps. "You're hiding something aren't you, Octavian?" he asked and scoffed. "No wonder you're so relaxed."

Emily looked up from where she sat. "What are you saying, Ox?" she asked.

He looked back at her. "Why do you think Octavian is saying we should wait to escape? He's in with them. He's just trying to keep us from escaping."

Emily and Anika both looked at the towering brute. Octavian saw doubt flicker across their faces, then confusion. They both looked to him.

"Octavian," Anika started. Her lips were moving but no words were coming out. She didn't know what to say.

Octavian rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious," he said. "What makes you think that I'm a traitor?"

"Personal gain," Ox answered. "We all know you want to be the next praetor. Perhaps the enemy promised to make you one."

"That's ridiculous," he said. "Praetors do not take shortcuts to power. They work for it. Whatever our captors want, I don't know anything about it. So why don't you just sit down and relax."

"Lies won't get you anywhere, Octavian." Ox took another two steps closer before Emily began to shout.

"Stop it!" she said. "Just stop it! Arguing will get us nowhere. Ox, just sit down."

For a moment all was quiet. Ox stared down at Octavian for a moment before turning and heading back to his usual spot on the floor.

"That's better," Emily said. "We shouldn't just jump to conclusions of how we got here in the first place. We should focus on survival and thinking of a way to escape. Arguing will only tear us apart. We've been here two days and already you two are ready to bite each other's head off."

"Emily's right," Anika added. "If we want to survive, we have to put our differences aside and work together."

Ox only huffed and brought his legs to his chest. Octavian closed his eyes and ignored the whole matter.

"We'll have to go with Octavian's plan," Emily said. "Wait it out and figure out our surroundings. Then we go for it."

Ox made a sound of protest but then went quiet. Octavian opened his eyes a crack and saw the demigod chewing on his lower lip. A nervous habit maybe, but at least he was quiet. He closed his eyes once more. As always Octavian knew what he was doing. His plan was going to work.

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**Well, that was enjoyable to write. I'd appreciate your input on the story, being the loving and supporting readers that you are. Also, the fiends like it when you guys review too. So, if you wouldn't mind (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).**

**Review Comments:**

**FireofRiptide:** My first and official reviewer for this story! I thank you greatly. I hope you enjoy the story.

**Percabeth03: **Really, I had no idea what I was thinking when I posted the story. My mind was on a chemistry lab report that I had to do. I don't think it's a permanent title. So if you have any suggestions, by all means. Impart me with your wisdom.

**Special thanks to those of you who have reviewed, added, alerted: Percabeth03, FireofRiptide, and Artie Gallezi.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long wait. I was very busy this weekend, but now we have a brand new chapter! YIPPIE! Enjoy!**

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Chapter Three

Five days more passed by. The four hostages spent their time silently learning their captors' routines. The strange, deformed demigod was the one who brought their meals, twice a day. The cyclops was the one who took them on their bathroom runs three times a day. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before they drifted off to sleep. Other than that they saw no one else. Just the two monsters.

After some quiet debate, they decided to take down the demigod. He was scrawny and wouldn't be able to rip their heads off with his bare hands unlike the cyclops. He wouldn't be hard to take down. They were prepared to leave this nightmare behind and head home to Camp Jupiter.

When the humming was heard, they moved into their positions. Ox shuffled as quickly and quietly as he could to the door and hid where the door would open. Octavian, Emily, and Anika sat closer together, near the door. The humming became louder and louder. The tarnished doorknob turned and ratted. The hinges on the door squeaked open. The demigod entered the room.

"Rise and shine- OOMPH!" Before he could even finish his words, Ox slammed into him and sent the demigod carrying the breakfast tray sprawling on the floor. That's when Emily took charge of her part of the plan.

Using her legs she created a vice grip around the demigod's fragile neck. She began to squeeze and choke the air right out of him. His thin arms began to flail. He gripped onto the legs that were chocking him in a desperate attempt to breathe. Then he went limp, unconscious.

"Look for a knife," Octavian hissed.

Their eyes scoured the demigod's body for any sharp object they could use to cut their bonds. Strapped to his leg just above one of his steel toed boots was a sheath for a knife. Anika flipped around and blindly felt with her hands for the hilt of the knife. She gripped it and pulled it out before making short work of the cords around her wrists with Octavian's supervision. When they snapped, she heaved a sigh of relief and began to work on everyone else's. Once their wrists were free, they untied the ropes surrounding their ankles.

"Let's go," Octavian said. "Ox, take the knife. You'll go first."

Ox nodded and took the knife from Anika. He stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, and barreled out of the room. The others followed swiftly after him, leaving the demigod sprawled out on the floor, covered in greasy food.

They had no idea where they were going, but anywhere was a start. They passed by the short hallway with the bathrooms. Up ahead was another hallway that would force them to go either left or right. Ox stopped at the end and pressed himself up against a wall. The others did the same.

"Which way?" he whispered. "Left or right?"

They all listened for any clues that could possibly tell them which way the exit laid. Nothing came.

"Let's try right," Emily suggested. "If not we can quickly double back."

Ox took the lead once more and padded as quietly as he could down the hallway. Up ahead were three doors. He pressed his ear up against one door. Emily and Anika took the others while Octavian watched the rest of the hallway for any enemies.

"I hear nothing," Ox said. "I'm going to open my door." He turned the knob and opened the door just a crack before looking inside. "Nothing," he said. "Just boarded up windows."

The next door to be opened was Emily's. She smiled when she saw it. "Looks like the back door is open," she said and opened the door all the way. There was the most beautiful sight any had seen in the past week. An opened doorway that showed a grassy field that seemed to go on forever. "Let's go," she said and dashed out of the hallway towards the door.

Just before Emily could reach the doorway she suddenly dropped with a scream and wouldn't stop screaming. The other three stopped short. When the rising sun glinted on the ground, they saw it, thousands of shards of glass spread out before the doorway. A trap.

Emily cried and screamed out in pain. Her hands shook as she felt the sharp pieces of glass that stuck in her face. Her feet bled openly, creating pools on the ground below.

"That's why they took our shoes," Anika said and reached for Emily to bring her back to safety and see to her wounds. "We won't be able to escape now. It's a minefield out there."

Before Octavian could say something, clapping, slow and mocking, sounded from behind them. He looked over his shoulder. There stood the demigod that they had knocked unconscious. He looked fine now, especially since he had two cyclopses standing behind him.

"Right you are, my dear," he said. "I must admit, I was wondering when you were going to put your brilliant escape plan into action. I found it quite thrilling." He smiled and looked down at Emily, who was still sobbing and trying to pluck the glass out of her skin. "How are you, pretty one? A little sore?" His patronizing tone was more mocking than comforting. "Yeah well you deserved it." He looked to the cyclopses and jerked his head in the hostages' direction. They growled and moved forward to collect the demigods.

Octavian's heart sunk into his stomach. He had a taste of freedom. It felt wonderful to dare to hope that he could escape and be free. But then it was all snatched away with in the blink of an eye. A meaty, heavy hand slapped down on his shoulder and began to push him back into the house of horrors. He expects to be forced back into the room in which they had been sleeping in for the past week, but that was not the case.

"No, no, no," the demigod said. "No rest for you, my lovelies. Punishment must be performed. You four are bad demigods and must be taught a lesson. Separate rooms for all of them. Don't be afraid to be rough."

Octavian was separated from the others and shoved into a small, dark room. The door was closed and locks put in place. He was left in the darkness for quite some time. He wondered what was happening to the others. Emily would be in a lot of pain. He didn't expect their captors to provide any nectar or ambrosia to help heal her. Whatever was going to come next probably wasn't going to help her either.

Then the door opened. A cyclops lumbered in, carrying a large, metal basin that sloshed with water. The scarred demigod stepped inside, smiling still. He hummed as the cyclops set down the basin and moved Octavian so that he was kneeling before the basin. The demigod knelt on the other side.

"I so hoped it wouldn't come to this," he said. "You were all so well behaved. But all good things must come to an end apparently." He sighed dramatically and rested his chin on his palm. With his other hand, he dipped his fingers in the water and swirled it around, creating ripples. "Have at it then," he said.

Octavian's head was suddenly forced into the water and held there for several long moments. His surprise caused him open his mouth and inhale the water, causing his lungs to burn. Then his head was pulled out. He coughed up the water and gulped down the fresh around him.

Unfazed and smiling still, the demigod reached forward and slicked back Octavian's wet hair. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he crooned. "I have the power to cut this little... _session-_" he smiled- "short and return you to your wallowing if you answer my questions."

Octavian coughed and sputtered. His lungs still burned.

"What is your name, blondie? Bet you drove all the girls back at camp wild with your good looks." The demigod laughed and flicked a few droplets in Octavian's direction. He flinched. "If you won't answer, Brutus here will give you another dunking."

Not wanting his injured lungs to go through further torment, he answered his captor. "Octavian," he wheezed.

A pat to the cheek was his reward. "Was that so hard?" the demigod asked.

"What do you want with us?" Octavian asked.

"You will find out soon enough, Octavian." The demigod sat up straight, hands on his hips. "Well, enjoy the rest of your punishment. I shall see you for dinner." He stood up and began to leave.

"You said you would let me go," he said, almost pleading.

"I never said such a thing," his captor replied. "I said I had the power to shorten it. Which is what will happen. Don't worry. Soon enough you'll be back where you belong. So long for now!"

Octavian was dumped back into the room. He collapsed in a heap, giving little attention to the ropes cutting off circulation from his hands and feet. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes and dripped into his eyes. He blinked groggily. The hands left him and the door was shut. He curled in on himself.

"Got your breath yet, Octavian?" It was Ox. His voice sounded hoarse, but Octavian didn't have the strength to look up at him. He only concentrated on trying to breathe.

"Is he alright?" The softer words of Anika caught his attention. "Octavian?"

The only sign that Octavian was still alive was his gentle breathing. Frankly it hurt way too much to talk, his throat being as sore as it was. Someone shifted along the rough floor until they stopped by his head. He unfurled and looked up. Anika loomed over him. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He noticed a discolouration on her cheekbone that could only be caused by a hot blade. He only nodded in response. He closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep. Struggling for air had tired him out. He gave into his fatigue, which later caused him to regret it.

The dream he had was one of the more disturbing ones he'd had in a while.

The dream portrayed a very dark place. Another room in this house perhaps, he didn't know. The only light given off was a soft, golden glow, emanating from a large coffin. The sides of the coffin depicted scenes of gory death and gave off a very cold feeling. Octavian felt his dream-self shiver. But that wasn't the only thing in the room. There was a chair set up before the coffin a few feet away. The chair had overlong arms with thick leather straps attached to it and the front legs of the chairs. There was also a person in that chair.

Octavian barely recognized the broken human on the chair. The angles of the limbs were so grotesque that there was no denying that they were broken in several places. Blood seeped from multiple open wounds all along the figure's body. Octavian's eyes followed the rivulets of scarlet blood that flowed from the figure's face. Then he realized that the figure strapped down to the chair was Emily. Her eyes were open but unfocused and dull. The pupils were dilated. She was dead.

He shifted in his sleep and woke. Someone nudged him in his ribs. He looked up. His demigod captor smiled down at him and helped him to sit up against the wall.

"There we go," he said and pressed a water bottle to Octavian's lips. Water was a cruel thing to offer to Octavian, especially after his ordeal. But he was thirsty. His throat ached. "Tortured men are thirsty men," the demigod said. "You're going to need it." Octavian parted his lips. The bottle was tipped up and the cool liquid slipped down his throat. Then it was taken away.

The demigod stood up. He seemed pleased. "That should keep you going for a little while yet. In the mean time, I want you to get a good night's rest. I have other work to do." He stood up and twisted the cap back onto the water bottle.

Octavian heard dragging and moaning. He twisted to see what was happening. A cyclops was dragging Emily away. She was in too much pain to do much else. The monster took her out of the room and the demigod followed, closing the door. Octavian looked to Anika and Ox.

"Where's she going?" he asked.

Anika paled. "I don't know," she answered. "They never told us. And I don't think it's to heal her wounds." Nothing was said after that. Nothing was needed. It confirmed the sneaking suspicions each had in the back of their minds. The purpose to their imprisonment was going to begin. Octavian's stomach curled and twisted. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Review Comments:**

**Artie Gallezi: **I'm glad you like the story so far. I enjoy writing it so much because I get to explore Octavian's motives and his mind, for that matter. As for his family life, you'll find out more later ;)

**tacobowler: **I couldn't stay away. It was impossible.

**As always, thanks for reading and please review. More reviews = quicker updates.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the long wait. I had a very stressful week. I just realized that I have no idea what I'm doing after school. That is slowly straightening itself out, but still it's hard not to worry about the future when you realize you have no future.**

**But anways, on with the show right? Enjoy my twisted mind.**

* * *

Chapter Four

Emily did not return until the next morning. Her condition was far worse than the previous night. When the cyclops dumped her on the floor, she barely seemed alive. Her chest rose and fell only slightly and slowly. Too slowly, in fact. The other hostages knew that this was a bad sign. If they didn't receive some nectar and ambrosia soon, she would die.

Anika, startled by all this, began to sob. The reality of the situation was starting to affect her. After eight days in this prison hope was dwindling. Rescue seemed impossible now. They didn't even know if anybody was looking for them. The fact that Emily was near death only made their moods worse. Even Ox looked shaken. Octavian only fell to his side and faced the wall. His dream was becoming real. Emily would not make it back to Camp Jupiter. She would die here.

With their arms behind their backs, they were unable to ease the pain Emily was enduring. They had to live with her suffering until someone returned to take her away, or what would be left of her.

Octavian tried to ignore the entire situation. He was helpless to do anything. Why should he waste what energy he had left in trying to help her when she was probably mortally wounded? Survival was his top priority right now. As heartless as that may sound, the need to survive almost always overrides human decency.

It wasn't until many hours later that someone returned for Emily. The demigod captor crouched down beside her, placed a hand on her forehead, and shook his head. The prognosis wasn't good. He had her carried away by one of the cylcopes. The knot in Octavian's stomach did not go away. Instead it tightened. He felt sick.

"She's not coming back," he said quietly after the captors and Emily had left.

"What was that?" asked Ox.

With great effort, Octavian flipped over to face the other two. "Emily won't be coming back."

"W-what do you mean?" Anika said. Her voice quivered.

"She's going to die soon," he said. "They'll have their fun with her and eventually kill her. Then they'll move onto us."

"No," Anika wailed. "No, no, no."

"If you haven't figured it out by now, they're going to kill us all. We aren't going to get out of here."

Anika rested her head on her knees and began to weep. The stress was certainly getting to her.

"How do you know this?" Ox asked, sounding a little skeptic. "Did someone tell you?"

"I had a dream," he answered. "She's going to die."

For the first since Octavian had known Ox- which wasn't long considering he had never communicated with the demigod before they were kidnapped- the son of Mars looked defeated. Once again he chewed on his lower lip. The look of deep thought was written on his face. Whatever he could be thinking of, Octavian couldn't guess. There was nothing to think about other than what they were doing to Emily. He certainly couldn't be thinking about escape plans. Now that they had tried it, escape was impossible.

After the nighttime meal, the last bathroom run was made. Just as the three hostages prepared to have their hands untied by the cyclops guard, they saw her, or rather what was left of her. Emily's broken and twisted body was being dragged down the hallway by another cyclops. Her limbs were bent at different angles. Her mouth was hanging open in a silent scream, and it seemed as if her back was broken.

As soon as Anika's bounds were taken off, she rushed into the bathroom and retched into the hole. Octavian's own stomach churned. What did they do to her? What did she do to deserve that kind of death? Maybe it was still part of the punishment. If so, lesson learned. Octavian wasn't going to try to escape again. He didn't plan on having a painful death.

With the bathroom run complete, the hostages were deposited in their room once more. The mood was quiet and depressed. There would be no talk of anything tonight. The only sound that could be heard was soft breathing, and the occasional sob and whimper from Anika. The quiet was good enough for Octavian. It helped him concentrate on other things, such as imagining life back at Camp Jupiter. What would they be doing now? Would there be War Games tonight? Or perhaps enjoying a nice time relaxing in the bath houses? The bath houses could always put someone in a good mood. Not to mention it would rid Octavian of the smell after not bathing for over a week. He missed camp life.

* * *

The dreams were not all that kind during the night. The stress of the situation was getting to Octavian. He dreamt of his mother again. She had been out on the balcony, leaning against the railing in a flowing, white dress that dropped to her knees. The day had been as beautiful as ever. The sun was strong, and the sky was clear. Everything should've been perfect that day, but that wasn't to be the case.

Octavian had been eight. He hadn't seen much of his mother in the past few weeks. She'd spent a lot of time away from the house. He didn't know why. She had been sick. That much he knew. She'd been seeking help for it. And one day it all went downhill.

Octavian had seen it all happen. First Calliope had been standing on the balcony. She'd turned to see him, eyes wide. Suddenly she'd dropped to the ground and started shaking uncontrollably. It had lasted for several minutes, and then she'd gone still. She never moved again.

Her death was something that Octavian could never truly forget nor get over. But he always smiled, pretending like nothing was ever wrong. And the people around him believed it. The topic was never brought up.

When the nightmare had finally released Octavian, he felt so vulnerable. Tied up, starving, and scared he thought about all the possible things that had happened to Emily. He shuddered. Did they beat her while she was strapped down in that chair? Did they lock in the golden coffin and let her thrash around while her air ran out? The possibilities were endless. It was their punishment for trying to escape. A harsh punishment indeed, but now they would never try to escape again. It was no longer worth spending energy on escape plans. Octavian would now focus on steeling his mind. The next few days were most likely going to be rough.

If Ox and Anika were awake, they certainly didn't show it. The mood was still gloomy. When the demigod captor dropped off their breakfast, they licked it up silently and went back to their corners and rested. There was nothing left to look forward to except maybe the bathroom runs when they could stretch their rubbery limbs. Other than that the future looked very bleak.

Another day passed much like the others. In the afternoon, there was a break in the dull routine. Each of the hostages was taken out of the room. Octavian didn't struggle. He simply gave in and let himself be taken to a different room in the house. He was pushed in and left in the dark.

There was something wrong with the room he was in. It was small. Too small, in fact. The walls were literally closing in around him, pressing in on all sides. It was also dark, like ink. It seemed to spill over all the walls and encase the poor, unfortunate soul in a thick blanket. Octavian wasn't claustrophobic, or afraid of the dark, but this was too much. His knees were tucked up to his chest, but even so he didn't have enough room. His toes were pressed up against the door, and his arms were pressing up against the back wall. The roped chaffed his skin. Octavian fought the panic for as long as he could, but the air was slowly suffocating him. He wouldn't be able to fight for much longer.

He shifted on the ground, seeking a more comfortable position. It only resulted in chaffing his already abused skin. He was getting quite sick of this. When were they going to let him out? Was this further punishment? He didn't do anything to warrant it. Perhaps this was just for the captors' sick pleasure. If so, their time was running out. Already Octavian's heart was slamming away in his chest. His breathing was shallow. The panic was increasing. Then he realized that his air was running out. This room was completely sealed shut. That's why it was getting harder and harder to breathe. This room was like a coffin. That thought alone scared Octavian. He was going to suffocate. Some death for a proud Roman. He didn't even go down fighting. Slow suffocation would be his death. He closed his eyes and gave in.

* * *

He didn't know how long he was in that closet for. He eventually blacked out due to suffocation. When he came to, he was lying flat on his back. The ropes on his wrists and ankles were gone. Was he dead? It was certainly dark enough to be the Underworld. He blinked a few times to clear the fog. He began to cough and rolled onto his side. The air around him wasn't so thick anymore. He could breathe.

"Phew!" said a voice. "You had me worried there for a minute."

It wasn't the Underworld. Octavian's demigod captor was still here. He was still a hostage.

"You weren't breathing when we found you," he said. "But that does tend to happen whenever we stick someone in the closet. But I find it loosens one's tongue quite siginficantly, considering I can threaten to put them back in, and they will tell me everyting I want to know." Octavian heard footsteps. The demigod was coming closer. He looked up. The demigod was kneeling by his head. A thin and bony hand reached out and gently stroked the sweaty blonde locks of hair stuck to Octavian's forehead. The gesture unnerved him. He couldn't hold back his shudder.

"Now, now, don't be afraid," the demigod said. "I'm not going to hurt you. That's not what I'm here for."

Octavian could've laughed, but his captor scared him too much. The supposed caring words made him imagine all the horrible things that this demigod probably did to Emily. His Roman courage had left him. His father would be so disappointed to see him now.

"Seeing as we're on friendly terms," the demigod continued, "I'll let you know a little bit about myself. My name is Greg, and I am a son of Hermes."

Hermes. That didn't sound right. It should be Mercury. He corrected the demigod named Greg, but Greg only threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, Octavian," he said, "you have so much to learn. But I guess I can blame the gods for that. They have kept us apart for centuries. I guess that last time we Greeks and Romans clashed it didn't end well."

There was another word: Greeks. The pieces began to click in Octavian's head. There were Greek demigods out there. Romans weren't the only ones.

"You're Greek?" he whispered.

Greg smiled. "I'm glad you figured it out. Yes, I am Greek and you are Roman. Examples from history teach us that we should be enemies. Always have been and always will be. But the man I work for has a different idea. He wants us to work together. My master has learned that Greeks aren't as strong as you Romans. He likes Romans better. And so I have brought him the Romans he has asked for. Your dear friend Emily was a fighter. She had the spirit and yet she shattered. My master is hoping that one of you boys will prove better."

Too many parts were missing from the story. Greg had just given Octavian the explanation as to why he had been kidnapped, but he couldn't make sense of it. Who was this master? What did the Greeks want with the Romans? The pieces were coming together slowly, but it still felt like Octavian was missing out on the most important piece.

"I bet you're still wondering why you're here, though," Greg said as if reading his thoughts. "I'm not being all that clear, but that's fun in it. I love the confusion. It makes people so... anxious." Greg shuddered with delight. "Watching them suffer with anxiety is thrilling. And you, my friend, didn't fail to comply."

Octavian tried to ignore his captor, tried to block out his words, but it was hard not to. He needed to figure out the reason for his kidnapping. How Greg knew he suffered from panic attacks he didn't know. Perhaps the demigod had watched him while he slept, and saw how he twisted and turned while the nightmares of his mother haunted him. That was the only logical solution.

Greg shifted on the ground until his legs were stretched out before him on the ground. "Would it surprise you that I know everything about it? Every little detail?" he asked. He flipped onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. He bent his head down until his lips nearly brushed Octavian's ear. Octavian thought he would be sick.

"I know you, Octavian," Greg whispered. "I know you inside and out. I know you want to be one of the next praetors at Camp Jupiter. I know your father is Gaius, a respected member of the New Rome community. I know you're part of the first cohort of the Twelfth Legion. You're a centurion, a well-respected one at that. The younger ones look up to you as a shining example. I also know you've been in that cohort since you were eleven. You're a descendant of Apollo, and because of that you have a special talent in 'seeing' things."

With every word that Greg said, the knot in Octavian's gut worsened. How did Greg know so much about him? Maybe that's what he had done to Emily. Tortured her for information about all of them and killed her when her usefulness expired.

"Octavian?" Greg asked. "Are you all right? You're shaking."

Octavian was shaking. He didn't know how to control himself anymore. Back at camp he was always so calm and collected when the situation got tough. But back at camp he had the resources to figure out his problems. Here in this house he had nothing. He was left exposed and vulnerable.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

From the huff of air he felt on his ear, he guessed the Greg was smiling. The sadistic demigod was enjoying himself.

"That knowledge is only for me," he responded. "Now I have a question for you. Your mother, Calliope. What happened to her?"

Of course he wouldn't know about that, Octavian thought.

It was the one thing he never told anyone about. He didn't want to be reminded about the painful event. He'd rather not think about it. He didn't answer his captor.

Greg laughed. "You're silence is most displeasing," he said. "But that won't bother me. Not at all. I already know about your mother. I know every little detail. Calliope was one of the most beautiful women in New Rome. Your father was lucky to have her. But I've heard that she was sick in the mind. And because of that she decided to take her life. Am I getting this right, Octavian?"

Octavian was fuming. He wanted to know how Greg knew about his mother. Emily certainly didn't know. Anika and Ox wouldn't have known either. There was only one answer to this question. There was a spy in Camp Jupiter.

"Judging from your clenched jaw," Greg said, "I am getting this all right. Wonderful! Shall we continue?"

Octavian wished he could sink through the floor. Or at least be killed by Greg, and this whole matter would be over with. But apparently that's not what his captor intended on doing. This session would be about humiliation and what it would take for Octavian to finally crack.

"I know your mother wasn't normal," Greg said. "She would be happy and bubbly the next day she would be gloomy and blue. Did you notice how her condition was deteriorating before the end of her life? Or where you too young to understand what was happening to your dear mother?"

Octavian's ire was rising. He wouldn't be able to contain it much longer. He didn't want to admit it, but Greg was getting the better of him.

"After the funeral, did your father tell you that you were the cause for your mother's death?"

That was the final nail in the coffin. Octavian twisted on the floor and landed a hit to Greg's jaw. The force of the impact sent the Greek rolling onto his back, laughing. He got what he wanted. Octavian turned away and ran his hands through his greasy hair. There was no escape from this room. Greg was going to get his way with Octavian.

Once Greg had recovered, he rested against the wall, hands behind his head. He continued to smile despite the growing bruise on his cheek. "That was fun. But now we have to continue. Do you want to know why your mother killed herself? Because she knew what you were going to become when you got older. She saw you turn into a monster, and she wasn't able to live with that knowledge. So you, Octavian, are the sole reason for your mother's death."

Octavian whirled around and shouted, "That's not true." Although his voice cracked, making him sound weak.

"Oh, but it is," Greg said in a calming tone that parents would use on their small children. "Deep down inside you know the truth. You've just always been denying it."

Octavian was at the tipping point. His lower lip trembled. It wouldn't be long now until he broke.

"Your father has always known it, though," Greg continued. "He couldn't _wait _until you went off to Camp Jupiter. You were a constant reminder of his wife. That's why he never hugged you or comforted you whenever you were sad. He kept you at a distance so that he wouldn't have to look at you anymore."

He didn't know how much of it was true, but Octavian knew what Greg was talking about. His father did keep a distance between them. Octavian was a living reminder of Calliope. Gaius and his son didn't have a strong bond. They rarely ever saw each other. Maybe Greg was right. Maybe Octavian was the reason for his mother's death. It would explain the feelings between him and his father.

"Your father even said that he wished you would've died in Calliope's place."

Octavian shouted. He ran over to Greg and hauled him up by his shirt. He wrapped his fingers around the boy's neck and began to squeeze. Greg didn't show fear at all. He calmly looked at Octavian as he tried to strangle him.

Octavian looked in Greg's eyes and saw nothing. No emotion at all. In fact, the boy was probably enjoying this spectacle. He finally got what he wanted. Octavian cracked.

After trying to kill the other demigod, Octavian collapsed. He simply didn't have the strength anymore to continue on. He covered his face with his hands and began to weep. He felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately tensed.

"I'll let you collect yourself before we return you," Greg said softly. "Thank you, Octavian. I couldn't have done this without you." The hand on his shoulder left. The Greek left, humming that familiar tune that still eluded him.

* * *

"The blond is perfect," Greg said as he paced before the golden coffin. "He has a guilty mind. You'll be able to use that against him."

Words that sounded cold and metallic echoed through the room. The temperature dropped a few degrees, but the demigod was unaffected. _What of the other two? _the voice asked.

Greg shook his head and stopped pacing. "Strong in body but also in mind," he said. "We should use Octavian first."

_No_, said the voice, _we are not going to use him first. He shall be used last. He is not as strong as the other male. We will use Ox first. If he does not provide to be useful, we shall move on. I'd like to use Octavian last. Let his guilt eat away at his defences. In a few days, perhaps a week he shall be ready._

Greg nodded and bowed respectfully. "It will be done."

* * *

**Review Comments:**

**Bananas (Guest): **Why thank you. I hope to hear from you again.

**Percabeth03: **Hopefully this chapter cleard up any confusion you may have had.

**Super (Guest): **Yes, I have read the Demigod Files, but not recently. I guess I'll have to crack it open once more.

**Huntress Of The Sea: **I am SO happy that you returned. You've been with me since the beginning and I respect that. Yes, I've noticed the spelling mistakes and I hope to catch them all as I continue to write. So thank you for the heads up. Also I am doing Nanowrimo this year so that means no updates all November long again. For this year's story, I've created my own world called Vindar with my own myths and gods/goddesses. I've put a lot of planning into it including a hand drawn map. I am SO pumped for this year. How about you, are you doing it this years?

**Ariddle-Ascare: **I'm glad you like the story! I'm putting a lot of effort into it and I hope you like it and will return for more.

**Thank you all for following/favouriting my story. I hope you will stay tuned for the next chapters. Don't forget to review. I love it when you do.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I have returned, mes amis. Pardon the French but I just returned from a nice long trip in Montreal. C'etait fatastique! But now it's time to return to the story. **

* * *

Chapter Five

It would be a lie to say that Octavian steeled himself and slipped on a mask of ice to protect himself. What did he have left to lose? Obviously his captors knew everything about. There was nothing left to hide.

Greg's promise did come through. Octavian was allowed a few minutes to himself. Eventually he did manage to reign in his emotions and control them. It didn't, however, stop the ache in his chest. He had never felt so weak before, so exposed. There was no pretending anymore. Octavian was nothing. He was no longer the strong, brace centurion from the first cohort. Strip that away from him and what was left? Deep down he was just a boy, a kid, a disappointment to his father, the cause for his mother's death. He was truly nothing.

When the cyclops returned to take him back to the room, Octavian complied. He was in a daze. He no longer took in his surroundings. There was no point in doing so. He was going to die here.

Anika was already in the room, hands behind her back and ankles tied together. The cyclops tied the ropes onto Octavian's abused body. He walked over to a corner far from Anika and sat down, facing the wall. Ox didn't return. Octavian accepted the fact that he would never see the brute ever again. He only hoped that Ox's death would be painless and quick. It was the only thing he could hope for.

"Octavian," Anika whispered. "Octavian."

He finally responded by looking over his shoulder at her.

"How… how are you?"

Octavian guessed that small talk was the only way that could help the girl stay sane. He decided to join in, thinking that it would be a good way to get his mind of his troubles.

"Sore," he responded. "You?"

"Tired." Her eyes drifted over his hunched form. "Do you think we'll make Elysium like this?"

"What do you mean?"

She looked at the rope between her ankles. "We haven't done anything significant since we came here. No heroic deeds. Nothing. Do you think we'll end up in Elysium?"

Octavian looked at Anika again. He took in her frazzled appearance and dull eyes. She had clearly given up on hope of being rescued. The girl was scared. She wanted to know if her spirit would be safe and end up in a better place.

He decided to put her soul at ease. "I think so. We'll be fine."

Anika nodded and went quiet. She was near to tears. Octavian wished he could comfort her, but what could he say to make her feel better? There was no more pretending. They weren't going to be rescued. Might as well face reality.

Drained emotionally and physically, it didn't take long for Octavian to fall asleep during that night. And it didn't take long for him to fall prey to the nightmares.

* * *

Since his encounter with the closet, Octavian feared suffocation. Of course it was a painless way to die as one would simply go to sleep and never wake up. But that wasn't what scared Octavian. In his situation, he would gladly take it over any other death option that Greg might offer. No, dying in a small closet was not his greatest fear. His greatest fear was knowing that there was nothing he could do to escape his inevitable fate. No one would be coming to save him. No one would listen to his desperate pleas for help or mercy. In the end, he would be alone. And that's what scared him the most.

His nightmare decided to play on his fear of dying alone. It was dark out. He could see the stars above him. He missed the stars. They told such great stories. Stories his mother would often tell him at night before he went to sleep. He wished he could see the stars one more time before he died.

As the dream continued, he found himself to be lying in a shallow pit. Or rather a grave. Something was wrong with this picture. Dirt was flying through the air. It settled down on him, slowly covering him up. The dirt pressed down on him. Layer upon layer rested on his body in a cold embrace. He then realized that he was being buried while still alive. That's when he started to panic. He knew no one was going to save him. No matter how loud he screamed, no one was coming. But that didn't stop him from trying. He screamed and screamed and screamed and-

* * *

That's when he woke up. It was all a dream. He wasn't being buried alive. He was still a hostage, though. It was better than the alternative.

"Calm down now," a familiar voice said. Octavian recognized Greg. Slimy fingers brushed back his hair.

"Night terrors," Greg guessed. "It's good to hear that you've got a nice pair of strong lungs, though. Means that you haven't died yet." He smiled. "I guess that it is partially my fault because of this. I did stir up some emotions for you. But don't worry. You'll see what I have planned for you. And then you'll thank me." Greg patted Octavian's cheek and stood up. He flicked off pieces of dust from his shirt and left the room.

Octavian's eyes searched for Anika. He spotted her. Her eyes were open. They were directly focused on him. He saw something in her eyes that he didn't like. He saw disappointment. He showed her how weak he was. She could no longer depend on him. She flipped on her other side, her back facing him. Octavian hung his head in defeat.

* * *

Ox returned some time the next day. All Octavian could say about him was that he was different. His eyes were wide and they darted around the room when he was pushed in. His mouth was partially open, gasping as if he were a fish. Whatever happened to him, made something snap. Ox wasn't Ox anymore. Their captors must've assumed that he was no longer a threat since they didn't bother to tie up his hands and feet. That meant Ox would be useless to help Octavian and Anika in return.

Anika stared at him. Horror was written across her face. She pushed herself away from Ox. She didn't know who he was anymore.

Octavian knuckled down his fear and proceeded to make his way over to Ox. Perhaps the boy was still coherent. Octavian wanted answers. He wanted to know what happened to him, and, for that matter, Emily.

"Ox," he rasped.

Brown eyes flickered around the room. Looking at nothing, everything.

"Ox," he said again. "I have a question for you."

Ox didn't appear to be listening. He began to hum quietly.

"What happened?"

Ox pressed a hand to his forehead. His other hand was clenched into a very tight fist.

Octavian licked his lips and tried again. He needed answers. "Ox, I need to know what happened. What did they do to you?"

The question seemed to agitate the demigod even further. He shook his head back forth. The hand on his forehead began to creep closer to his hair, so that he could pull it out. His tempo with the humming sped up.

"Did they hurt you?" Octavian's eyes swept over Ox's thin form. He didn't see any bruises, burns, or broken bones.

Suddenly, Ox went rigid. His back arched off the ground. His hand shot out, and he grabbed a fistful of Octavian's shirt to pull him close. His eyes were as wide as ever.

"Beware," he said in a shaky voice. "He's coming to get you."

Octavian shook off the surprise and asked, "Who's coming? Is it the demigod? One of the cyclopes?

"He's everywhere," Ox responded. "There's no use hiding. He's coming."

Octavian nodded. "I understand that, but I need to know who it is. Do you have a name? A description of what he looks like?"

"NO!" Ox yelled. He pushed Octavian away and shrunk back into the corner. He curled into the fetal position and trembled. Clearly he wasn't going to be answering anymore questions. He simply didn't have the strength. Octavian couldn't blame him.

Octavian shifted back to his corner. He couldn't take his eyes off Ox. Ox was strong. He was brave. He was what every Roman should aspire to be. Seeing him broken and scared like this was frightening. Octavian wasn't as strong as him. If someone could shatter Ox, Octavian could only imagine what could be done to him. It made him sick with worry.

* * *

Octavian had a vision that night. He considered it merciful that Ox was going to die today. He couldn't stand to see the large brute this way. Ox flinched whenever the floorboards creaked. He continued to hum to himself, and he had his hands pressed over his ears as if he could shut out all the sounds around him. Octavian envied Ox. He was going to escape this hellhole. He was going to be released from his suffering.

The cyclops arrived and pulled Ox out of the room. He never returned. Octavian and Anika shared a knowing glance. They both knew what had happened. Ox was dead.

A few days had passed in silence. Octavian didn't see Greg once during that time. The cyclopes were the ones who delivered the meals during that time. Octavian was happy for the quiet rest he was granted. He slept during most of it. The world of dreams might not have been kind to him during the time he slept, but it did grant him a few nice dreams as a form of respite. He dreamt of the good times with his mother and father, friends, war games. He wished he could just live in those dreams forever. It only made it that much harder when he woke up and found himself tied up on the floorboards.

_Just a dream,_ he thought bitterly.

He sat up against the wall. His arms ached incredibly, but there was nothing he could do to relieve himself of that pain. He didn't know what time it was, but he hoped it was near a bathroom run. He could use that time to stretch out his arms.

The door squeaked open. Anika immediately woke up, her eyes wide. It was a cyclops. It passed out two bowls of some slop and left. Octavian looked at his meal and fought to keep the bile down. Over the past few days, his appetite had decreased significantly. His meals would be eaten half-heartedly. Sometimes he would only eat half his ration. Sometimes he would skip his meals altogether. There was no point in trying to take care of himself anymore. He was going to die soon anyway.

The day passed by in complete silence. Anika couldn't look at him. Octavian didn't blame her.

The next morning was full of activity. The break in routine was over. Anika was taken away. When she had realized the cyclops was there to collect her, she turned hysterical. First came the tears. Then came the screams and cries for help. The words 'no,' 'please,' and 'oh gods' were used quite frequently. Octavian wished he could cover his ears and shut her out. He couldn't stand it. All he could say was, "I'm sorry." He said those two words over and over and over again until they had lost all meaning. He was sorry for not being the strong leader he thought he was. He was sorry that he couldn't save her.

Octavian sensed that there was no Elysium for him in the near future. His death would be pointless and meaningless. The judges in the Underworld would send him to Asphodel Fields. He was sure of it.

Later in the afternoon, a cyclops arrived. It lumbered into the room with its XXXXXL stained t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. It bent down and began to untie the ropes around Octavian's ankles. He was shocked at first, but then he realized that there was no longer any need for the extra measure of security. There wasn't anyone to untie his ankles anymore. He took it as a silent message that Anika wouldn't be coming back.

When the cyclops moved to his wrists, an idea sparked in Octavian's mind. The ropes could be used as a weapon. As soon as they were off, the cyclops began to leave the room. He was too stupid to take the ropes with him. It was exactly what Octavian needed. He picked up the rope. It was coarse and thick. It wouldn't break under the strain he was about to put on it.

Octavian stood up. He wobbled a bit. He was so weak. It made him wonder how much weight he had lost so far. He crept up behind the cyclops and jumped onto his back. He wrapped the rope around its throat and began to pull back. Of course the monster began to flail its arms. It gripped onto the rope, trying to pry it loose, but in the end it only made the situation worse. The cyclops was choking.

The only downside to killing a monster like this was the noise. The stomping and gurgling attracted unwanted attention. Another cyclops came running and growling. Octavian was pulled off roughly. He landed on the wood floor hard. Before he could get up and try to protect himself, a heavy cyclops foot crushed his leg. It was either his tibia or fibula that broke. Or it could've been both. All he knew was that it was painful. Very painful.

Greg came running as soon as he had heard Octavian scream out in pain. The demigod was on the ground rolling around and trying to clutch his leg without causing it more pain. Greg looked to the two cylcopes and yelled at them. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

The cylcopes mumbled and stuttered about what happened, but Greg was not happy.

"You were not supposed to touch the hostages without my consent," he continued. "I had very strict orders to not let the hostages get hurt. If they were hurt, it would make the transition harder on their bodies." Greg cursed and gripped his hair. Once he had calmed down and licked his lips, he said, "Find me two boards we can use as a splint. And get me a little ambrosia with a bed sheet as well. GO!" The cylcopes took off.

Greg knelt down beside Octavian and tried to calm him down. "It's alright. I'll be able to fix this." He forced Octavian to lie perfectly still. His captor shushed him and gently touched his broken leg. The pain immediately shot up his body. He whimpered.

"Oh, Octavian," Greg sighed. "What made you do a thing like that? I thought I could trust you."

Octavian didn't know what he was thinking during the time he tried to kill the cyclops. Desperation was probably one of the contributing factors. That and he wanted to avenge the other hostages. And to prove to himself that he was still a strong person. But he had failed. He was still weak and pathetic.

"I'll try to make it better, though," Greg said.

The supplies were delivered. Greg broke of a small piece of ambrosia and forced it into Octavian's mouth. Octavian gobbled it up quickly. Immediately the pain began to dull, but it was too little. He needed more. The break was a serious one, and would need proper medical attention, but he would take what he could get.

The pieces of wood were placed on either side of Octavian's broken leg. It was to prevent his leg from moving and, therefore, making the break even more serious. A bed sheet was torn into long strips. There were wrapped around his leg and tied tightly together to keep the splints in place. Hopefully his leg wouldn't heal crooked.

After giving him a little more ambrosia, Greg stood. Clearly he still wasn't happy. His plans had been ruined. Served the bastard right. Finally something was going Octavian's way.

"Make sure he doesn't fall into shock," Greg ordered the Cyclopes. "Get some water into him as well." Before he left the room for good, he left a very serious threat hanging in the air. "And if he dies, it's not going to be my head."

Water was immediately given to Octavian. He drank deeply until his thirst was satisfied. Things were going to change around here. The Fates must've decided that they had their fun in messing with his life and decided to give him a break. Whatever the reason for the sudden change, he was glad to take advantage of it.

For the rest of the day, Octavian was taken care of. His guards made sure he was hydrated and provided better tasting food than before. It was all to make sure that he wouldn't waste away or die before he could prove his usefulness. He was glad for the respite. His broken leg was a blessing in disguise. The one downside to this was that they weren't very generous with the ambrosia. Once it wore off, no more was offered. Octavian gritted his teeth. He didn't dare move. It caused him too much pain. He would have to live it for now.

His night was quiet and uneventful. Although, he didn't get much sleep. He couldn't. Thoughts spun around in his mind, trying to make sense of the situation around him once more. His captors cared for him. They didn't want to see him dead. They obviously had bigger plans for him, probably bigger than figuring out the defences to Camp Jupiter. He still couldn't make sense of it.

It was quiet now. Octavian did like to be on his own sometimes back at Camp Jupiter. It allowed him to breathe and take it all in before moving onto the next step. It allowed him to slow down his life and figure out where it was headed. Here he had no such luck. The quiet was an enemy. It taunted him. It spoke to him and reminded him of his failures as a leader. Now he saw why his father held him at a distance. He was nothing to him. He tried. Oh yes, how he had tried to fill his father's shoes. It was in vain, all of it.

He was lightly dozing when the door opened. He moaned when two arms lifted him up off the ground. His broken leg was jostled. His eyes shot open and he hissed. Whoever- or whatever- was carrying him gently carried him out of the room. He concentrated on trying to keep in his shout.

He didn't know where he was being taken, but he assumed that it was to one final room. He assumed right. The room held the chair and the golden coffin that he had dreamed about. His assumption was correct. The cyclops wasn't very gentle when it strapped him down to the chair. Although, it left his injured leg unstrapped. There was no need.

Greg ambled into the room. There was a light bounce to his steps. He smiled down at Octavian and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Today's the day!" he said. "I've been waiting for this day for so long. And now, here we are! Isn't this wonderful?"

Octavian kept quiet. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the golden coffin in front of him. It was large, far larger than any normal coffin should be. This was where Emily, Ox, and Anika had sat before they had died. Now it was Octavian's turn.

Greg pulled out a small knife. The blade was dull and faded. The white handle was cracked and stained with dried blade. He pressed it against Octavian's palm and eventually drew blood. Octavian hissed and watched with fascination as Greg collected only a few drops of the red liquid onto the blade. He carried it over to the coffin. He mumbled a few words in Ancient Greek that Octavian couldn't understand, but he had a feeling that he didn't want to understand them. The few drops of blood slowly dropped onto the coffin. When the first droplet touched the surface of the coffin, pain flared up all over Octavian's body. He was only aware for a few seconds before he passed out. Good night.

* * *

**Review Comments:**

**Huntress Of The Sea: **It is a lot of work, but I want this novel to be one of my best works of art. I was inspired after reading Lord of the Rings to create my own world, my own mythology and history to the world. So here we are today. And I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Hopefully this one didn't move too fast for you, but it's time to kick this story into a different direction.

**Ariddle-Ascare: **I'm glad you like it. I kind of have an odd obsession with shattering characters' minds.

**Foxface: **Glad you enjoy it! I will keep writing.

**So there you go, people. It's Octavian's turn for whatever this is. Stay tuned for next time. And don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I've returned early. Your welcome. But there's a downside to the earliness. I'm not going to ruin your time now. Details are down below. And all you faithful readers must read it because it's very important.**

* * *

Chapter Six

Even today Octavian can't fully describe what happened that day. The only thing he remembers was pain. He wasn't able to stand it for long. He thankfully passed out from the extremity of it all. He preferred the darkness, but Greg just had to pull him back into the light.

Drops of nectar found their way between his cracked lips and into his mouth. The taste was sweet. It reminded him when he and his mother had tried to make strawberry milkshakes. The kitchen had been a mess when they finished, but the results had been delicious. The nectar was like those experimental milkshakes.

More nectar was provided. He finally woke up. Greg was leaning over him, looking concerned, but then he smiled. Octavian was awake.

"There we go," he crooned. "Nice and awake now. The first time is a little rough on everyone I find. The second and third times around are where things get interesting. So, let's try that again, shall we?" The cut on Octavian's palm had dried up. Greg wasted no time in reopening it to dig out a few more drops of blood.

The second time wasn't as bad as the first. As soon as the blood splashed down onto the coffin, it felt like a giant hand had wrapped itself around Octavian's torso and began to squeeze. His lungs weren't taking in any air. His head fell back to rest on the chair. He dug his fingers into the armrests, willing the air into his lungs. Finally, the invisible hand pulled away. He gulped down the precious air. But that's when things started to get, well, weird.

He could hear breathing, and it wasn't Greg. The breathing was deep and melodic like the person was asleep. Then it shifted. It seemed to be sniffing the air. Then it heaved a great sigh that made it sound content.

_Octavian_, the voice spoke. The voice was deep and sounded like metal scraping against rock. _Welcome. We meet at last._

Octavian looked all around the room to find out where the voice was coming from. He wasn't insane. He didn't hear voices. This wasn't normal.

"Who are you?" he asked.

_I am Kronos. Or Saturn to your kind. Unlike the gods, I do not suffer from a split personality. Time is universal no matter what name you give it. Now, stay still. This will only hurt for a moment._

Kronos' (or Saturn, your preference) presence seemed to leave Octavian for a moment. He felt alone. Then it came crashing down on him like a brick wall. It felt as if Kronos was forcing his spirit out of his body. He had no say over it, no control. All of the sudden Octavian wasn't in the room anymore. He found himself in a white world. It wasn't the Underworld and it wasn't in the living world. It was somewhere in between like purgatory. Octavian spun around to figure out where he was. The ground beneath his feet was greyish sand. Even the sky had the same grey hue. Overall the world was quite bland. The second thing he noticed was that his leg was healed. No splint and no broken bone. He was fine.

Octavian began to walk along the sand. He was looking for anything that could give him a hint as to where he was. He began to run, covering more distance than before. It felt great to be able to move again. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to move around like this. But since there were no landmarks, it felt like he was running in the same place. He looked over his shoulder just in case. He was making progress. His bare feet left imprints in the sand. He continued to run on.

It seemed to take forever just to get to one place. Octavian didn't tire, which was weird. He wasn't winded, or breaking out in cramps. He felt unusually fine.

The wind picked up around him. Fine pieces of sand were picked up and blew into his eyes. Oddly it didn't affect him. Instead the sand seemed to create a wall. It pushed him back, and he found himself back in the room. Strangely he was no longer strapped to the chair. He seemed to be lying on the floor. But his leg felt even worse. It was like he had walked across the room.

_Very good_, Kronos' voice rasped. _Very good indeed. I didn't think your body would be able to stand up to the strain. But still you refuse me._

Octavian could only groan. The dull ache began to creep up his leg. He needed his fix of ambrosia, or the pain would become too much for him to bear.

_But seeing as you are injured and most likely tired, I will let you go_, said the Titan. _I will see you tomorrow, demigod. Sleep well_. Kronos' presence retreated. It felt like there had been an icepack placed on Octavian's chest, and then it was taken away.

Footsteps approached. It was Greg. He looked down at Octavian and grinned with an impish smile. "That was fun," he said. "I'll be right back with a few supplies. I don't think we should move you tonight. We have to make sure that leg heals properly. Kronos needs a strong body. He happens to lack his own."

Greg left suddenly. He returned moments later with a cyclops carrying a military issued cot with the green canvas material. It was set down against the wall, and Octavian was dumped on it. A thin pillow was slipped under his head and a ratty blanket was thrown over his body. He was shocked at the sudden kindness he was being shown. It didn't feel right to have this. He wasn't special enough to have it. He also didn't earn it. But it was still better than sleeping on the floorboards. He was sure that he had bed sores all over his body from bone grinding against wood.

Before Greg left for good, he fed Octavian a small piece of ambrosia. He took it without question.

"See you in the morning, lovely," Greg whispered before leaving the room. "Try to get some sleep," he added and left the room.

It was quiet once again. The wind howled past the thin walls. Octavian guessed this room was near one of the outer walls since he hadn't heard of the wind since his kidnapping. He touched the wall beside him. So close to freedom and yet so far. He missed the sun on his face and the wind in his hair. He missed the vibrant colours of wild flowers blooming. More importantly he missed the comfort and support of his friends. Right now he should be sleeping comfortably in his cohort, on a proper bed. So many things were wrong with this. It didn't feel right. It also didn't feel right when he was sleeping in the same room as Kronos... Saturn. But having one name for the Titan was not a big worry at the moment. Octavian was more concerned with how he could stay sane. Still shaken with Ox's experience, Octavian could only imagine the worst case scenario. Whatever was going to happen, he had to make sure Kronos stayed out of his body.

* * *

Sleeping was easier said than done. Octavian couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried. Something was keeping him awake, making him even more tired so he wouldn't be able to resist Kronos. His mind kept drifting towards the sensitive subject of his mother. It had been a few days since Greg made him snap, but the long term effects proved successful. He couldn't stop thinking about Calliope. The way she fell and shook. The way her eyes stared out, and the way her body went absolutely stiff. Octavian hadn't been able to step out on the balcony for months after her death. Not to mention he hadn't had a peaceful night's sleep since then.

Then there was his father Gaius. When was the last time Octavian had receive any sort of contact from him? There had been the hug the day of Calliope's funeral. The awkward pat on the shoulder when Octavian had left for his first day at camp when he was elven. Maybe Gaius didn't know how to take care of his son after his wife had died. Octavian couldn't rule out the factor that Gaius had a hard time as a single parent. But still it hurt to think that Gaius didn't care all that much for his son.

The next morning was a little rougher than Octavian expected. A little water was offered to him, and after he was strapped down to the chair. It seemed like Greg was intent on an early session.

"Now as we continue this," the Greek said, "I want you to be completely relaxed with all of this. The less you resist, the easier it will be for your body." He drew out his small knife and pressed it into Octavian's wounded palm. He drew blood and smeared it onto the golden coffin. "I will see you in a few hours," he said.

When he was alone, he felt Kronos stir. A sudden shift in temperature was the giveaway. Octavian struggled in the chair.

_Be at peace, young one_, Kronos said. _Nothing bad is going to happen._

Octavian laughed nervously. "Oh really? So I guess that my pain and misery means nothing to you? All you want is a body."

_Everyone has a purpose, no matter how big or small. It seems the Fates have given you a big role in life._

Octavian thought about this. He knew what Kronos spoke of. He was going to be used to help destroy Mount Olympus, the home of the gods.

_I can give you everything you ever wanted,_ Kronos offered. _I can give you the power that you've always sought in your life. I can make you the most powerful being on the planet. Your friends would look up to you. Your father would finally give you the respect that you deserve. Everyone would kneel before you, Octavian._

"Everyone," Octavian repeated.

_Yes, _Kronos hissed. _Everyone. Now, hold still, child._

That's when Kronos began to worm his way into Octavian's body. The experience was just as painful as before. It felt like his body was snapping in several places. The disks in his spines were slipping, joints dislocating, bones breaking and grinding. Then the pain faded. His eyesight began to dim and blur. When it cleared, he found himself back in the white and grey desert. And once again his leg was perfectly fine. He began to run.

He found the desert to be entertaining for only one thing, mental exercise. When he grew bored of it, he stopped and flopped on the ground, thinking. If Kronos took his body forever, would he be stuck here forever as well? Or would he eventually pass into the Underworld? He didn't want to be stuck here forever. What would he do with an unlimited amount of time here? Running only occupied him for a short time. Maybe he could talk to Kronos about getting some-

Did he just think that? No, he wasn't going to let Kronos take over his body. He wasn't going down without a fight.

Octavian stood up and brushed off the sand. He began to walk. What he was looking for was a mystery even to him. Somehow he needed to find a way to get back into his body. He focused on the room where he was strapped down. He forced his spirit to step back into his body, and force Kronos back into his coffin. It was like ripping through a very thick spider web, tearing away web after web of silk-like material. He slipped through the hole he had made. There was resistance, though. Kronos had a body and wasn't intent on letting it go so easily. Octavian nearly lost his foothold in the other world. He continued to push through until he collapsed onto the wood floor.

Octavian yelped. His broken leg blossomed with pain. White and yellow spots danced across his vision. He vaguely heard Greg swear. The demigod rushed over to him.

"You stupid bastard," he spat. "Everything was going fine until you decided not to listen to me." Greg laughed and sat back on his heels. Octavian continued to grimace, forcing himself to remain calm and, most importantly, breathe.

Greg pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. A squished piece of ambrosia lay inside. He broke off the smallest piece he ever could, and gave it to Octavian. He didn't know why Greg just didn't give him all of it. Wasn't he more important alive than dead? Kronos needed a pristine body, not a broken and starved thing like Octavian. Maybe it was all because of Greg's sadistic pleasure in seeing him in pain.

"I guess we'll just have to try again," Greg mused. He gripped Octavian's face and made sure that the Roman paid close attention to his words. "Now during this run, I don't want you to struggle. Kronos needs your body. Just let him have it."

Octavian looked up at him defiantly. "Over my dead body."

Greg laughed again, this time a little more hysterically. "That won't be necessary… yet. Now, let's just get a little bit a blood going here, and I'll leave you two alone to settle things." It didn't take long for Kronos to come back. Greg left the room once more. There was no need in keeping Octavian strapped down any longer. He could barely move as it was.

_I commend you on your valiant efforts, _Kronos said. _But it was in vain. You will serve me, Octavian. It is the only way. _

"You are never going to take me," Octavian said through clenched teeth. He dared to look down at his leg. It was grotesquely swollen. A small bump rose up, showing where the break had occurred. The skin was dotted with purple and black bruises. Judging from the way his leg was angled, it was going to heal crooked. It would have to be rebroken in hopes of setting it straight. At the least he would be left with a permanent limp.

_That's what they all say, _Kronos said. _But they all eventually topple. You are no different. I will give you what you have always wanted, Octavian. Do you not want that? Do you not want the respect and power you deserve? Let me show you what I mean._

An icy grip settled on Octavian's mind. He was suddenly whisked away to the top of the Empire State Building. Before him, the city spread out in every direction. Continuous lines of cars filled the streets down below, while countless pedestrians walked on the sidewalks.

_All of this. _Kronos' voice seemed to surround him, like it was constantly being blown around in the wind. _All of this will be yours if you only listen to me. No longer will you be the weakling that your father sees you as. You will be known as Lord Octavian. Your image will be carved into statues, and your name printed on every column from here to the ancient lands. People will bow before you; worship you as the hero you are. You will free the world from the tyranny of the gods. All of this is possible because of you, Octavian._

The Titan's words were intoxicating. To have so much power and yet only give so little in return.

Suddenly, Octavian found himself back in his body. The icy hand left his mind.

_The choice is yours, young one_, Kronos said. _I will not force you into serving me. But I highly suggest that you do. It is, of course, for the greater good. The gods have had their time. They are like a cancer to the world. They need to be removed before they kill it. Help me, Octavian. Help me rise._

Kronos was so hard to resist. His words made Octavian feel alive. His whole body was tingling with energy. The ache in his bones had melted away. His loneliness and panic had disappeared as well. Maybe Kronos was right. This was the better alternative. Besides, what had the gods done in Octavian's life that would make them appear good? Had he not prayed to them for answers about his mother? Had he not asked them why she had to die? His prayers and pleas had been left unanswered. If they didn't care about their children, why should they be left to control the world?

"Do it," Octavian said.

_Are you sure? _Kronos asked. _This is a large undertaking._

Octavian nodded and closed his eyes. "I'm ready."

_Very well. You did well, Octavian. I'm proud of you._

The icy grip returned. It settled in his mind and spread throughout his body. This time there was no pain. It might have been because Octavian had given himself up willingly.

Behind his eyelids, Octavian saw only darkness. Then he was swallowed up by sweet white oblivion.

* * *

In the desert, Octavian figured he had plenty of time to kill. He walked instead of ran. Perhaps Kronos had stuck a few interesting pieces here this time. He would certainly like something he could to be constructive. A few training swords and some dummies to go along with them would be nice. That way he could at least keep him with his sword handling and knife wielding while he was staying here.

He continued to walk.

In the distance, he could see several large stones. Gray and boxlike they stood out on the flat terrain. He began to run towards him. That's when he started to hear the voices. Not voices as in disembodied voices, but voices that must've belonged to human beings. In fact, he recognized several of them. He began to run quicker. People. Why would people be here? Not that he was complaining. He was dying for some human contact. Normal human contact. He'd had enough dealings with the strange son of Hermes.

"Hello," he called out. "Is anyone there?"

His call was answered by silence, but he still made his way to the rocks.

The rocks were large and square. Each of them looked to be cut perfectly and were all at shoulder height to Octavian. But sitting on each of the rocks was a demigod. Four of them he did not know, but the other three he recognized immediately. Ox, Anika, and Emily all sat on the rocks, perfectly healthy. One rock, however, was bare. No one sat on it.

When he stepped into the circle that the rocks had formed, the demigods all turned their attention to him.

"Look what the cat dragged," one demigod remarked. "Seems like the Titan has a new toy."

Octavian was confused. What were these people doing here? They couldn't be alive.

"We saved you a seat, Octavian," Emily said and gestured to the empty rock beside her. "Join us. We've been expecting you."

* * *

**BAM! Didn't see that coming did you? Well, let me know what you think. Review, as always.**

**Review Comments:**

**Ariddle-Ascare**: I'm so glad you like it. How was this for a cliff-hanger?

**tacobowler: **I guess they bothered to kill Anika because Kronos wanted Octavian's mind to completely break down. She was just an appetizer before the main course. Kind of disgusting but it works. Also I have no idea when I'll 'publish' this new book. I'm on a new website called figment . com. I'm starting to post my original work there. Check it out if you want.

**Okay, so here's the bottom line. Nanowrimo is starting tomorrow (National Novel Writing Month= 50,000 words in thirty days). I will not be around for the entire month of November since I need to focus on my original stories. Sorry for the bad news but I will come back as soon as possible. Thank you once again for being the best readers out there.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm back! My, what a month it has been. I ended up with 50,005 words, not even close to being done, but hey, I got a good start on my story. Now I have to catch up on all the other things, such as editing and writing this story. So yeah, here you guys go. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Chapter Seven

"This isn't possible," said Octavian. He spun around in the circle, looking at each of the faces. Ox was still the strong beast he always had been. He was no longer scared and sniveling. He was strong here. Same with Anika. The stress of the situation was no longer affecting her perfect posture. Her hair no longer fell in greasy strips. Even Emily surprised him. No glass cuts could be seen, and all of her broken bones had been mended. There were four other people he didn't know. Two girls and two boys. He didn't understand why any of them were here.

He pointed to Ox, Anika, and Emily. "All of you should be dead. I know you're dead."

"We are," Anika answered. "Our bodies are no longer alive, but our spirits seem to be trapped here."

"What do you mean by trapped?"

"It means we can't move on," Ox said. "We don't know why it happened, but we can't move on into the Underworld."

"We can't find rest," one of the unknown boys added. "I think it's because of Kronos. He forced our spirits here since we are neither dead nor alive, but somewhere in the middle. Since our bodies were destroyed while we were here, we got stuck in here. Kind of like purgatory."

Octavian looked at the four individuals he did not know. Two of them were wearing orange t-shirts with the saying 'Camp Half-Blood' printed on them. He pointed to them as well. "Why are you here then?"

"Isn't it obvious?" one of the girls said. "We were Kronos' earlier experiments. We've been here for quite some time. What month is it in the outside world?"

"Outside world?"

"She means the living world," Emily said.

Octavian thoughts about it. He didn't how long it had been since he had been kidnapped, but he assumed at least two or three weeks had passed. It was February when he found himself in the cabin. That meant it had to be—

"March," he said. "I think it's March."

The girl nodded and said, "Then we've been here for at least six months. Doesn't feel like it, though."

"It feels like only a few weeks," another remarked.

"Who are all of you?" Octavian asked.

"I'm Jenna," a blonde girl answered. "And that is Rebecca, Anton, and Carl."

Rebecca had dark brown hair and appeared to be as strong as Ox. Anton looked just like Octavian, a descendant of Apollo perhaps? And Carl had the dark brown hair and blue eyes and impish features like Greg.

"What are you, though?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Jenna asked.

"Greeks or Romans?"

"Greeks, of course," Anton said. "We were kidnapped first. Kronos used us and found out that we weren't strong enough for him. Then came you Romans. Doesn't seem like it made much of difference, though. We're all dead."

"I'm not dead," said Octavian.

"So then he's trying to possess you," Carl said. "Want some advice on how to get him out of you?"

Octavian shook his head. "Why? I'm letting him."

A collective gasp rose up from the group.

"Willingly?" Rebecca asked. "Why? That bastard is trying to take over the world. He's going to wipe out both of our camps if you help him."

"He can make this world better," Octavian said. "Without the gods, we won't need to wonder if they are going to hear our calls and prayers. The gods have ruined the world."

"Octavian, listen to yourself," Anika said. "The gods are much better than the Titans. They have given everything we need."

"And yet they ignore us. They don't care about us. They only care when something of theirs has gone missing and need someone to retrieve it because they are too lazy to do it on their own." When no response came, Octavian considered the battle won.

"What did he promise you?" Anton asked.

Octavian turned to face him. "What?"

"Kronos all promised us something. He promised to give us our deepest desires. He promised to make us gods; that people would worship us for giving them their freedom. What did he promise to do for you?"

Octavian's mind began to reel. Had Kronos lied to him? He was so confused that he couldn't think straight. There was too much for him to take in. Too much.

Anton gave a huff of indifference. "I thought as much."

"Saturn is nothing but a liar," Emily said and smiled sadly at Octavian. "He filled all of our heads with empty promises. He's only thinking of himself and what he wants. Don't give into him, Octavian. Fight. Fight him."

Octavian couldn't look up at them. He felt ashamed. Compared to these demigods, he was weak, pathetic, loathsome. He willingly gave into Kronos. Everyone else here had fought until they died. How could he compare? He was a coward. Elysium would not be in his future now; especially since he found out he would live in this place forever. Forever.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked quietly. "I'm all alone out there."

"You'll do fine," Carl said and waved him off as if it were no big deal. "Just fight for the control. Everything else will play out in the end. And if you don't make it—" he spread out his arms "— then welcome to the club. We even got a seat saved for you."

"Fight for us, Octavian," Anika said. "Don't get stuck here with us. Believe me, it's not very enjoyable."

Octavian turned away from them and began to walk away very slowly. He glanced over his shoulder. The empty stone stared back at him, mocking him. He could practically hear it saying _You're next. _He continued to walk away from the circle. He had to fight for control. Kronos would not be allowed to win.

He found a very quiet place, which wasn't hard to do since everywhere was quiet. He went down on his knees and began to envision himself back in the room; back in his body. Before him was a rift, like a tear in a screen door. He reached up and began to pull the strands away. It was harder than the first time. Kronos was obviously happy in his body and wasn't intending on giving it up very easily. The strands fought to cover up the rift and keep Octavian in the purgatory for eternity. But Octavian fought. He fought desperately. He didn't want to stay here. Adrenalin pumped through his veins and helped him to force his way through the rift and back into his body.

Octavian collapsed in a heap. He rolled onto his side and began to cough. He hacked and coughed up a vile mucous. He rolled onto his back and tried to take in his surroundings. It felt weird to be back in his body. He felt like a stranger. What did Kronos do to him?

"Dammit, Octavian!"

Octavian's blurry eyes focused on Greg, who hovered above him. The Greek did not look at all happy.

"Everything was going so well," he said. "Why the sudden change in heart, lovely? Five days. FIVE DAYS! Kronos had you for five days, and it is now that you decide to ruin it." The Greek paced. He continuously mumbled nonsense to himself, often biting on his fingernails. "It won't work," he said. "His mind is weak, and the body is deteriorating. There must be another option."

Greg fell into a spell of silence. Although Octavian couldn't hear him, he guessed that the Titan and his loyal subject were having a conversation.

"If he cannot be your host," Greg said, "then no one can be." More pacing. "We have to find a way to strengthen the body first. When that's complete, it will be able to with strain the strain."

Octavian coughed once more. Bile rose up in his throat, burning.

Greg smiled and chuckled. "Sounds crazy enough to work, my Lord. I will check into it immediately. Right now I will dispose of the trash."

Greg turned to Octavian. His smile was sly and frightening. There was a dangerous and sadistic gleam in his eyes. He began to hum and walked towards Octavian. He grabbed his arm and began to pull him out of the room. Octavian didn't know that Greg was this strong, but then again he had lost a lot of weight since his capture.

The Greek was not at all that easy going on Octavian. His broken leg had been jostled a little more than he liked. He felt sick and dirty; used. He didn't know what was going to happen to him now. His usefulness had expired. He feared what was going to be next.

"Stupid, stupid boy," Greg mumbled and dragged him to the room full of glass shards. He cared none at all if Octavian was injured by the glass. Right now he cared very little.

Meanwhile, Octavian dry heaved. The bile rose up, and he heaved the contents of his stomach onto the ground, or whatever was left of his last meal.

"Your time has come, Octavian," Greg mused and pulled something out from his belt. The Greek walked around him in a slow circle. Continuously he gripped his hair; the smile was still plastered on his face.

Like a coiled viper, Greg struck. He delivered a devastating blow to Octavian's unprotected torso. "You stupid boy!" he spat. "You could've been a great leader, but now you are nothing but a useless sack of crap. Now I can see why your father hated you. You're weak, frail, and completely useless. You couldn't even be a leader for your dead friends."

Octavian said nothing, but it was clear that Greg's words had a strong effect. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His shoulders shook in uncontrolled sobs. Octavian's soul was shattering. He didn't have much time left, he knew that. He just wanted to die; to be spared this torment of humiliation. But Greg always had different plans.

Greg dropped down to his knees. He rolled Octavian onto his back and straddled his waist. He pinned Octavian's arms to his sides with his knees. In his hand he held a very thin, sharp knife. He pressed the sharp tip on Octavian's left shoulder. He pressed into the soft flesh, eliciting a soft and pitiful moan from the Roman.

"This is to be your end, Octavian," Greg crooned. "No Elysium for you, oh no. Not for you. You were a bad boy, Octavian. And do you know what happens to bad little boys who don't do what they're told?" The knife was pressed deeper, nearly poking through the other side. "They get punished."

Greg withdrew the knife. Octavian whimpered. He didn't have the energy to do anything else.

"I thought you and I would be friends," Greg said and dragged the knife down through Octavian's skin and pressed it into his side, just above his hip bone. "You were worthier than the others. I had high hopes for you. You were perfect, Octavian. Why couldn't you see the talent in yourself? You would be granted power beyond measure. You would make a fine leader."

Octavian struggled weakly beneath the Greek. How he wished Greg would just end his torment. Asphodel Fields was sounding pretty inviting right about now. He groaned and tensed when the knife dug into his side and wormed its way down. He felt the knife being twisted, creating more damage.

"You know what you are, Octavian? You're selfish. You only care about yourself. Does the preservation and freedom of mankind mean nothing to you?" The knife in his side dug deeper. "Kronos was going to give us our freedom. But you just had to ruin it. You set back our plans. And I am not happy. I promised results to my fellow comrades. They aren't going to be happy when they hear that I'm returning empty handed. And do you know what I do when I'm not happy?"

Octavian didn't hear the question. He was in too much of a haze of pain to hear anything. He knew he was a failure. Couldn't Greg see the tears of shame rolling down his cheeks?

Greg licked his lips. He took out the knife and began to trace indistinct patterns into Octavian's chest. The boy winced and gasped for breath as scarlet drops leaked from the open wounds. "I take my time and make them feel what I feel," he said. "I make them feel the shame and humiliation that I feel when I fail. Remember, this is all your fault. If you hadn't been so selfish and so weak, things might've been different for you."

Octavian, dazed from the pain, could only continue to lie on the ground, helpless like a new born babe. Greg eventually got off of him and called for his two cyclops guards. "Brutus, Sledge, you can take him away now."

Brutus (Octavian guessed) picked him up. Sledge had a shovel in his hand. The last thing Octavian ever saw of Greg was his retreating back. The Greek hummed and held the bloodstained knife behind his back.

"See you on the other side, Octavian," Greg called out. "Enjoy what life you have left."

Octavian was carried out of the glass filled room and into the night air. How great of a relief it was to breathe fresh air. The night was cool and crisp. It filled Octavian with a sense of dread. The vision he had several weeks ago returned to him suddenly. The pit. The shovel. The stars hovering above. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening. He did not want to die this way. Please! Anything but this!

"Seems like a perfectly good waste of a tasty looking morsel," Brutus said. "He could've at least given him to us. I would've liked some fresh meat."

Sledge growled. "You know what that crazed being is like when things don't go according to plan. Gets all twitchy and murderous. Always wants his victims to suffer when he's in a bitter mood. Best thing is to put this poor bastard here out of his misery."

With a grunt, Octavian was tossed into a shallow grave. It stank of death and rotting flesh. He could faintly see the outline of another body nearby. He was glad the moon wasn't out tonight. He didn't want to see what lay beside him.

The dirt began to fly, covering him up layer by layer. Octavian fought to escape his body. He regretted it now. He regretted forcing Kronos out of his body. Why had his friends suggested that he should take his body back? How was this the better way? Mentally he cursed their souls to Tartarus and back. He cursed them never to find rest and to be damned for all eternity. Deep down he knew it wasn't truly their fault. He was so distressed at the moment that he needed to find someone to blame for his current situation.

The dirt piled up around him until only his nose poked out. He expected the final shovelful of dirt to land and cover him completely, but it never came. Instead he heard muted voices. Their words were indistinct. The sound of a bowstring sang in the dead of night. Two growls were cut short. Then there was silence.

When mumblings approached him, Octavian felt an odd sort of comfort. Perhaps it was the god of death to take him away from this hell. To finally give him what he wanted. Death.

Two soft feet landed in the dirt. Someone swore. A gentle hand swept the dirt off of Octavian's face. Fingertips searched for a pulse, and they found one.

"I've got a live one!" a voice hollered out. "He's alive but just barely."

More people were arriving. The dirt was being swept off of his body. Gently they lifted him out of the hole and onto the soft ground above. Tender hands took care of his wounds, binding them so he wouldn't bleed out before he could reach some sort of medical attention. Sweet nectar flooded his mouth. Of nothing but stale water and gruel for food, the sensation was almost over powering. Instead of healing his aches, it only made his throat burn.

"That's enough, Maverick," a female voice said. "He won't be able to take much more, not in his condition."

As soon as the words had been spoken, Octavian's body rejected the nectar. He threw it up on the ground. Not even the drink of the gods could save him. He was already too far gone.

"What the hell?" Maverick said. "That's not right. Hey, Tia. Kid just threw up the nectar."

Tia, a woman, approached. Octavian looked up. Dressed in familiar Roman style armor, he couldn't be happier to see a familiar sight. "Get him on a stretcher and some water into him. We've come too far. Are his wounds bound?"

Maverick nodded. "They're good. I'll try and douse his wounds in some nectar, see if that helps any."

Tia nodded. "Sounds good. Move out."

There were other people around, fellow Romans. Gently Octavian was lifted onto a stretcher. To keep him in place, they strapped him down with multiple layers of blankets to keep him warm. Right now he couldn't care less that he was near death. All that he knew was that he was safe. He was safe.

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**Finally, we get to the part where Octavian is rescued, but I'm not finished with him. Not by a long shot.**

**Special thanks to Apeni, CassandraSnakeCharmer, and A-Bookworm-Named-Steph.  
**

**Review Comments:  
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**Ariddle-Ascare: **I came back. Hopefully this chapter makes up for November.

**Huntress Of The Sea: **I think your review got cut off at some point. Also, did you participate in NaNo this year?

**A-Bookworm-Named-Steph: **I updated today!

**As always, read, review, come back some time next week and yeah. Thank you for sticking by me. Also, what do you think of the cover art?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry I'm delayed. I discovered another writing competition, so I couldn't help myself but start writing again. So expect irregular updating patterns to occur until mid-January. So there. I said it.**

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Chapter Eight

Octavian fell into a feverish state. The blankets on top of him made him sweat. He wanted to tear them away, but he was also cold. So cold. Water was always given to him. They had to keep him hydrated. His rescuers had come too far to lose him. They were doing all that they could to keep him alive until they reached Camp Jupiter. He didn't know how far they had travelled, but now that they were carrying him, the journey would take longer than before.

The journey wasn't all that long to him since he had been in a feverish state for most of the time. It seemed liked hours to him. But in reality, it had taken five days to reach camp. The others didn't know why Octavian hadn't died yet. Obviously the Fates had something planned for him. He should've been dead by now.

"Camp Jupiter," Tia said. "We've made it. Get him to a healer and quick. I don't know how long he'll have."

The soldiers carried Octavian away. He shivered and kept his eyes shut. In his weakened condition, the sun was not kind to him, but it comforted him. He was in the light now. No longer would he wake up in the cabin. He took in a deep breath of clean air, but ended up coughing and wheezing.

He was aware of the people around him. He could hear voices of all different kinds. Worried voices. Joyful voices. Sad voices. Angry voices. Voices of all kinds. Then he heard the hysterical voices. The squadron's leader Tia talked to her troops.

"Keep the parents back," she said quietly. "I don't want them to become hysterical right now. We've got the kid's best interests in mind right now."

Octavian was carried away while the troops pushed the crowds back. The voices soon faded away. He was in a room that was well ventilated; he could tell that much. He dared to crack open an eye. The room was also well lit but not too harshly. It was absolutely perfect.

"Alright, on three," Maverick said. "One. Two. Three."

Octavian was lifted onto one of the beds in the infirmary. He guessed he was in New Rome. New Rome's infirmary had more of a modern feel to it than the one in Camp Jupiter. Camp Jupiter's infirmary taught all soldiers how to heal with the rudimentary basics. Bandages and basic stitching with the aid of nectar and ambrosia. New Rome's infirmary (think hospital) had a little more modern approach. Sterilization, IV tubes, feeding tubes. The works.

A set of soft footsteps approached the bed. Octavian looked up. The kind face of a healer looked down at him. He was most likely a son of Apollo like himself. Blond hair, blue eyes, charming smile. The man was destined to be a good healer.

"Status?" he asked.

"Seriously wounded," Maverick answered. "Dehydrated, malnourished, stabbed in the right shoulder and above the right hipbone. Knife marks over the chest, and a broken leg. Other than a small bit of water, the kid hasn't been able to keep anything down."

The healer frowned. "Nectar, ambrosia?"

Maverick shook his head. "Brings it up as soon as he swallows it. Haven't been able to figure it out."

"Have you treated his wounds?"

"Tried. Other than dousing a rag in nectar and setting it on his wounds, we weren't able to do anything else."

The healer nodded, frowned in deep thought, and looked to Maverick. "There's a house on Augustus Street. White siding and red shingles. Can't miss it. In the bottom apartment there is a woman that goes by the name of Nix. Tell her that I need her immediately and tell her what you have just told me. Now go."

Maverick turned and left rather quickly.

The healer began to call out orders to the people surrounding Octavian. He told them to bring warm water and rags, an IV bag, sterilized needles, his medical bag, stitching material, and a whole lot of plaster to make a proper cast for his leg.

"Should we insert the IV?" Tia asked.

The healer shook his head. "Not until Nix arrives," he said. "Not until we can think of some way to keep fluids in him properly. Until she arrives we shall start stitching up the open wounds." He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. "Let's start with his shoulder."

Octavian was eased out of his shirt. Really, they cut it off of him with a knife. The shirt was useless and would probably be burned. Without the shirt, though, he shivered hard. The healer couldn't help him any for he had to deal with the wounds on his body before covering him up in layers of blankets.

The healer began to clean the wounds with balls of cotton soaked in some antibacterial fluid. The coldness of the cotton made Octavian tremble. It was far too cold in here.

"Is he the only survivor?" the healer asked.

Tia nodded. "All the others were dead. We found the bodies in a shallow grave near the house. Broken bones, gnawed on by wolves." She shook her head. "It wasn't good. Two cyclopes were about to finish him off before we shot them."

"Did you find the perpetrator?"

She shook her head. "The house was empty when we checked it out. Whoever did this probably won't be found."

The healer only nodded and resumed his work. "There doesn't seem to be any infection," he said. "Just a little bit dirty, but you can never be too safe. It was a clean wound."

"Sharp knife?"

The healer nodded. "Very sharp. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Now we'll see about the stitching." With the needle and thread in hand, the healer pulled together the skin on Octavian shoulder, closing up the wound quite efficiently.

Octavian hissed through clenched teeth. He received no painkiller to numb the ache. The healer didn't think that his body would be able to keep it in. So Octavian settled for squirming and whimpering.

"Almost done," the healer said. "At least it didn't force its way through to the other side, and it didn't knick any bones. You're quite lucky, young man."

Octavian shuddered. He wasn't lucky. Not in the slightest. If he wasn't able to keep down any food or water, he was dead already. Why was the healer even trying to save his life?

The healer moved down to his hip. He frowned and said, "Oh." Obviously he wasn't pleased with what he saw. "We've got some tearing and ripping. The knife seemed to slice the bone right there. Not too deep, but still it complicates things."

"Does he need surgery?" Tia asked.

The healer frowned and hummed. "Not to me. It's not that extensive. When we're able to get some nectar into him, it should close up real nicely. Barely even a scar will remain." With that he set to work on stitching once more. Once the stitches were in place, the wounds were covered with gauze and surgical tape to keep the flies and dust from getting to them. An infection would set Octavian's condition back for weeks.

The healer had set to work on his broken leg by the time Nix arrived.

Octavian knew Nix. He'd heard of her when he was little. His mother had been friends with her. Nix would often arrive just after dinner, or Calliope would visit Nix during the day. Octavian never knew why they spent so much time together. He had a sneaking suspicion that he might find out during the next few days.

"Well, well, well." Nix grinned as she set eyes upon Octavian's emaciated frame. "Never thought I'd see the day when I would have to treat Gaius and Calliope's son. Finally lost your marbles have you?"

"That's not what he's here for," the healer said. "He's here because he was just recovered after being missing for several weeks. He can't keep anything down besides a few drops of water. Not even nectar and ambrosia will stay down for long."

Nix pursed her lips. "Interesting indeed." She stepped up to Octavian's bedside and looked down at him. She was an interesting looking woman. She was in her late thirties to early forties. Silver strands of hair were already beginning to work their way into her black hair. Her eyes appeared to be a little bloodshot. She looked like that one kid from the fifth cohort, that son of Bacchus. The reason why she looked like that boy was because she was a daughter of Bacchus. But she did not have a Kool-Aid addiction or any drinking problem for that matter. No, she was more of an expert on the human mind and the types of illnesses that affected the mind and made people go mad. She knew many things in the art of healing, many interesting and disturbing things.

"Let's see what we got," she said and rested a hand on Octavian's forehead. She felt how feverish he was, how weak and thin he was. She reached into her medical bag and pulled out a small flashlight. She let it shine in both of the boy's eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to react to the bright light, a moment that should've happened.

"See the reaction of his eyes when I shine this light?" she said.

The healer bent over Octavian and nodded. "That is not normal."

"No, it's not." Nix put the flashlight back in her bag and crossed her arms over her chest. "I've heard of this before. It often occurs in victims of possession. If a soul resides in the victim's body, the body begins to accept the other soul. But if the victim's soul returns to the body, there will be resistance. It's like when there's an organ transplant and the body refuses the organ. The same thing happens with the soul."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Tough love," she said. "That's all I can suggest at the moment. If you are trying to get him to drink, don't let him spit it out. Force feed him if you have to. You have to show the soul where it belongs. Use a feeding tube. That may be the best option for the boy at the moment. I'll check up on him in a few hours. Until then keep him alive. I'm sure his father will be most anxious to see him again. Good day to you, gentlemen. Now if you don't mind." Nix took up her bag and left the room as quickly as she had arrived.

"You heard the lady," the healer said. "I need a feeding tube, an IV bag, and let's get started on that leg."

The people in the room snapped to attention and began to get ready. The easiest part was inserting an IV tube into the top of Octavian's hand, right into the vein and taped down with surgical tape. The fluid ran freely into Octavian's body. They set up the feeding tube next. It was inserted through his nose and down into his stomach. The thin tube itself rested behind Octavian's here and was held there by a piece of tape. The last step was to fix his broken leg, something he was not looking forward to.

"We'll break it first and then straighten it," the healer said. "Is the plaster ready?"

"Yes, sir."

The healer rolled up his sleeves and placed his hands gently on Octavian's broken leg. He took off the old splint and swept over the broken bone. With a crack and a hoarse scream, Octavian's leg was reset, so the leg would now heal straight. Expert hands placed the plaster and gauze around his leg, making it so that he couldn't move it.

When the healer was finally satisfied that Octavian's condition was stable, he went off to get Gaius. Octavian was nearly asleep by the time he returned with his father in tow. A large and rough hand slipped into his and held it gently, thumb stroking the knuckles. He mustered up the energy to turn his head.

"Dad?" He barely made a sound. His voice was gone.

Gaius smiled down at him. It was clear that he'd been crying beforehand. He stroke back Octavian's greasy hair. The gesture made him flinch at first, but then he remembered that it was his father and not the Greek.

"Oh, Octavian," he said and nearly broke down into tears once more. "I thought I'd lose you."

It hurt Octavian to see his father like this. It hurt even more to know that he was the cause for Gaius's distress. He tried to say something, to ease his father's pain, but he couldn't get any words out. Gaius noticed this right away.

"Don't speak, Octavian," he sad softly. "Rest. There will be time for talking once you're better. Sleep, Octavian."

The Roman didn't need to be told twice. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be swallowed up in comforting darkness.

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**Special thanks to ilovemybunnyrabbit.**

**Review Comments:**

**Ariddle-Ascare:** I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. They will be getting more exciting as the story goes on.

**Solange (Guest): **I wouldn't say that he's bi. He's more like a sexual sadist, I guess. Overall Greg is really messed up in the head. He doesn't feel like normal people would. He gets off when he's hurting other people. Yeah. That's Greg in my mind.

**Huntress Of The Sea: **I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope you three can reach some sort of agreement sometime in the future. And I think I'll get to that explanation of how the Romans showed up some time in the next few chapters. And the souls will be coming back at some point in the story. Just you wait.

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I shall see you next week for the next chapter. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease review. They give me energy to write.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I am so sorry about that. What was it? Nearly two months since the last update? Well in that time I have finished another book, entered a contest, passed my exams, did some essays for school, and editing on the side. Now I can get back to the fanficing. I'm quite happy to be back. I have so much in store for you guys. So just hang tight while I get back into the swing of things.**

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Chapter Nine

Octavian slept for fifteen hours straight. He woke up early in the next day just as the sun was about to rise over New Rome. He felt better than he had in the past few days. Then his stomach began to churn. He managed to roll to the side of the bed and empty his stomach, which was nothing but bile, so it burned like Hades. The healer came running when he heard Octavian gasping and coughing.

"Easy there," the healer said. He gently pushed Octavian back onto the bed. "Just take in a deep breath and calm down. There you go. That's right, in and out. Feel better?"

Octavian managed a nod. The healer wiped up his mouth and chin before calling for an apprentice to clean up the mess on the floor. The healer stayed to check up on Octavian's condition. He was pleased to announce that the fever broke and that he was no longer in the danger zone. Octavian was expected to make a full recovery.

"When you are able to eat on your own," the healer said, "you can go back to your home. But until then you are going to stay right here."

Octavian opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't get the words out. It hurt far too much to try and speak.

"Don't speak now. Try to sleep for now. You're in good hands."

The healer held a flask of nectar in his hands. He tipped up the flask against Octavian's lips and let the drink of the gods pour down the boy's throat. He pulled it away when he thought Octavian had enough. Then he stood there, still as a stone. He waited for any sign that would spell trouble. But Octavian didn't spit it out. He checked the boy's wounds and found them to be healing, slowly but at least they were healing.

"Sleep," he said. "You'll feel better."

So Octavian slept again. There wasn't much else he could do than sleep. His body needed to heal, and he wasn't going anywhere until he could eat solids and the feeding tube would be removed.

Nix returned the following week to check up on his condition. She was pleased to learn that he was accepting the nectar. The wound were healing quite well, and soon he would be expected to start eating soft foods. It was still a long way to go, but she was more concerned with the boy's mental health. Nix knew a lot about possession. The cases weren't always pretty. From what she knew the souls of the body got stuck in purgatory while the possessor lived on the body. Often enough the souls were stuck in purgatory forever. Only by a god's intervention could those souls be freed. It wasn't pretty.

Octavian was lucky to survive, but Nix also knew he would be suffering from survivor's guilt. Being the only one of four that survived from this horrific event, Octavian would soon be second guessing his existence. If he was ever to make a full recovery and rejoin the cohorts in Camp Jupiter, then Octavian would have to go through extensive therapy of which she was thoroughly qualified in.

During the first few days of his recovery, Nix would find some time in her day to sit at his bedside with a notepad and pen on her lap. Octavian rarely noticed her; or rather he didn't acknowledge her presence. Either way it was a normal reaction. She expected it.

"Your father has taken the liberty of setting up regular visits between me and you," she said. "Consider this the first of many." She stood and whipped out her small flashlight, shining it in both of his eyes. "Feeling better?"

Octavian winced as the concentrated beam of yellow light temporarily blinded him. She turned it off and sat back down. "I don't feel any worse," he rasped.

"Good. You're starting to react normally to your surroundings. That marks progress." She wrote it down on her notepad. "Since you are the only survivor we'll need a detailed account of what happened. The parents of the victims need closure, and the sentries need to know what to look out for when on duty. Are you up for that today?"

Octavian blinked wearily. "What's the point?" he said. "I'm just going to die like the rest of them."

"You are far from death," Nix said. "I assure you that the head healer and I will do everything in our power to see you make a full recovery."

"Why bother? I'm doomed after this life."

Nix moved her chair to sit closer to the bed. "You were possessed. By what, though?" She placed a hand on the side of his head. Octavian looked everywhere but her. "I can help you, but you have to let me. There are a lot of people who don't want to lose you. Your father needs you, Octavian. Let me in. Let me help you."

Octavian turned his face away. "Saturn needed a host."

"The Titan?" Nix asked. "Is that why you were taken?"

Octavian nodded. "They took four of us. They held us captive for a long time before taking us out one by one. Emily was the first one to go. Then Ox, then Anika, and then me. "

"Possession takes a toll on the body," Nix explained as she continued to jot down notes. "From what experience I have with the victims I have determined that the soul of the possessor sort of stretches and contorts the body to fit inside." She stood up and placed one hand on his shoulder and the other lower down on the same arm. She rotated his shoulder. "Does this hurt?"

Octavian hissed and grimaced. His entire arm was sore. The muscles felt like he'd been at the archery range for hours on end.

"I thought so." She sat down. "You'll be sore for a couple of days. Don't be alarmed if you're holding something and then suddenly drop it. You'll need physiotherapy to build up your strength once more. I'll tell that to the healer before I leave. But before I go, is there anything else you would like to say to me? I am here to help, Octavian. And I cannot help if you do not tell me what is wrong."

"Can we do this later?" he asked.

Nix flipped her notebook closed. "I believe your father will be coming to see you sometime in the evening. Until then try to get some sleep."

Octavian nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't even notice when Nix slipped away, leaving him to his rest.

* * *

"Octavian," someone said in a sing song voice. "Wake up."

Octavian groaned. A bony finger began to probe his side.

"We're not leaving until you get up, so open your eyes already."

Well, he certainly wasn't going to get anymore sleep today. Octavian opened his eyes and took a moment to remember where he was and why. When the confusion cleared, he remembered he was in the infirmary in New Rome. His broken leg wasn't as sore as it had been for the past few days. There was no urge to vomit, but the pressure from his bladder was something he couldn't ignore. But a full bladder was the least of his worries. Gathered around his bed were the seven demigods he'd seen in purgatory. He blinked, rubbed his eyes as if this were some vision again, plaguing his mind.

"Take a good long look at us, Octavian." It was Anton, the blond haired, blue eyed Greek. "We're not going away anytime soon."

"Oh," said Jenna. "Think of us as roommates." She smiled and released a sigh of relief and content. "It feels so good to see something other than white and gray."

"I agree," Anika said. "It is nice to be outside, even if I can't feel the sun on my skin."

Octavian gaped. "You, you shouldn't be here. You're not supposed to be here."

"Don't worry Octavian," said Emily. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder as a means to comfort him. It did no such thing. She was dead. How could she touch him? "We're not going to hurt you. We're here to help."

"Help? Why would I need help?"

Octavian heard Ox chuckle from where he sat. "You'll find out soon enough," he said. "Just don't do anything stupid while you're here. If you died, then that would be bad for all of us."

"But why are you here?" Octavian asked. That was the one thing he didn't understand. Shouldn't be in that purgatory place? Why did they follow him? Was he cursed to remain this way?

"We don't exactly know," said impish looking Carl. "All we know is that we can't find any rest. Seeing as we're dead and all we can't do anything to get ourselves to the Underworld. But you are all fine and dandy – or close to being so."

"What my friend is trying to say," Rebecca said, "is that you must help us. We're not going anywhere any time soon. For us to get to the Underworld you must find a way to get us there."

"What if I can't?" Octavian asked. "What you're asking me to do is impossible. I won't even know where to start."

"You'll find a way, Octavian," Emily said with a reassuring smile. "If anyone can, it will be you. Don't let us down. We're counting on you."

As if that weren't bad enough. These demigods were depending on him of all people. Why didn't they just leave him alone? There was nothing he could do. He was not in control of death. He never would be. He wasn't the ferryman of the Underworld. The demigods would have to find their own way to the Underworld. Right now Octavian was going to look after one person: himself.

* * *

Octavian managed to squeeze in a little more sleep before his father arrived. He watched his father come in. There was a blonde woman who looked similar to his mother that stood by the doorway. Gaius talked to the woman before parting ways. He gave her a hug before coming to Octavian's bedside. Curios. Octavian had never seen the woman before. He assumed she was a close friend of his father's. _Or something closer _said a little voice in the back of his head.

Ever since Calliope's death, Gaius had lived a very solitary life. His love for Calliope was so great that he could not possibly even think of replacing her with another. Octavian would think it would be awkward to know that his father was . . . dating. The whole concept sounded weird to him. Gaius dating. Whoever heard of such a thing?"

"Octavian?"

The Roman's thoughts were interrupted as Gaius settled himself into the chair beside his bed. "Hi, dad," he said.

"How are you feeling today? The head healer and Nix both said you were responding well to treatment."

"I feel better," he said. "Less sore, less sick."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said and squeezed Octavian's hand. Not too tightly, but tightly enough to convey a message of fatherly love.

"Dad, what about the other families?" Octavian's eyes searched his father's face. "How are they holding up?"

"Oh, I don't think we should talk about that now," Gaius said. "When you're feeling better, alright? We'll talk more when your strength returns."

Octavian sighed. He wanted to know something about Emily, Anika, and Ox's families. He was the only one who'd survived and an only child. It was just Gaius at him at home, not many people would notice if he were no longer here. Emily, Anika, and Ox, they were the people who should still be here. If he had only thought of an escape plan or perhaps look for something in his visions. He was a demigod, for gods' sake. He was not as fragile as a mortal. Then why hadn't he been able to save them or at least help them battle their own demons when Saturn possessed them? Was he not a soldier of Rome? He felt weak here. He could no longer stand the confinement.

"Are you sure you're alright, Octavian?"

Octavian forgot his father was still here. How many minutes had passed since they'd last spoken? Ten? Twenty? He wasn't as aware as he should be.

"Do you want me to go get a healer?" Gaius motioned as if to stand.

"No," Octavian said with some difficulty. "I'm fine. It's just . . ."

"Just what?" his father pressed. "You can talk to me, Octavian. Don't hold anything back. We're all here for you."

So Octavian turned his head. He met his father's gaze, opened his mouth, and said, "Why did they have to die? Why was I the only survivor?"

"Oh, my dear son." Gaius leaned forward and gathered his son into his arms. Octavian clung to him with the instinct of a newborn. He needed an anchor. "We'll get through this together, alright?" his father said. Octavian nodded. "Just get some rest we'll talk about this more tomorrow. Okay? Close your eyes."

Octavian closed his eyes. Once he was comfortable in his father's arms, it took no time at all for him to fall asleep. When he was safe in the realm of the god of dreams, Gaius tucked him into the bed and left the infirmary in search of Nix.

* * *

Nix had just finished her dinner. She was cleaning up the small kitchen when someone knocked on her door. Odd. No one knocked on her door at this time of night. They should all be home right now, tucking in their children, and checking under the bed for the boogeyman. However, she opened the door.

Gaius stood there at her front door. "Can I come in?' he asked.

"Yes, come in. Excuse me for the mess," she said. "I just finished dinner." She closed the door as he stepped into the small apartment. "Is there a problem with Octavian?"

When Gaius didn't answer, Nix smiled bitterly. She knew this day would come; she didn't expect it to be so soon. She sat down across from Gaius at the table.

"He's going to need help," Gaius said, wringing his hands. "I don't think he'll be the same. This may push him over the edge. You know how Calliope was on her bad days. I don't want him to end up like her. I wouldn't be able to live without him. He's sixteen years old."

Nix nodded. "I understand. And I know how difficult this must be for you. Life with schizophrenia is a hard life. As long as Octavian gets the support he needs from you and his friends, he should be fine."

"I've always worried about him. He never knew the truth about his mother. He was too young to know why she . . . died. And now that he's back, I'm afraid he'll be even worse now. He was possessed, Nix. He's not going to be the same."

Nix reached out and placed a hand on his. "I have helped many people with mental disabilities. I can certainly help your son."

"I know," Gaius said. "You're the only I would trust with him. You mustn't let him go."

"I won't. I promise."

* * *

**Hopefully is worth the wait. Anyway, leave a review and let me know your thoughts and maybe let me know what you hope to see, a few ideas would be nice. I have my own, but I just want to know what you guys think personally. So as always review.**

**Review Comments:  
**

**Apeni:** I'm thinking he'll become augur near to the end of the story. And his dad... well, you'll find out about Gaius in the chapters to come.

**Huntress Of The Sea: **Nix is a character I'm excited to write about. She's slightly crazy and that one person people avoid and gossip about because she's so weird and socially awkward.

**Toner of ShadoWs: **Oh so much. And I'm not even close to being done with him.

**Ariddle-Ascare: **The madness of Bacchus. I know! Finally, we get to see the other side of the wine dude.

**Solange (Guest): **I hope I win too (fingers crossed). And I hope you continue to read this story as it goes along.

**tacobowler: **Greg is not Luke; he's just a psycho cronie. He was in charge of finding a way to get Kronos walking and talking in the flesh. Obviously he's failed many times.

**So thank you once more for reading. Hopefully I can get the next chapter up soon.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm sorry for the long waits. They're kind of unavoidable at the moment. I have a lot of major editing I'm doing and that comes ahead of fanfiction stories. But none the less I will finish it. And for some reason I'm already thinking of another story to write about, based upon one of my own original stories. Okay, I'm done talking now. Enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Many days later Octavian was released from the infirmary and was allowed to return home. His leg was still covered in plaster and gauze. The healer had informed him that it would still take a far bit of time for his leg to be completely healed. Until he could take off the cast, he told Octavian that he had to not strain himself and take it easy. He was not completely healthy yet, so every precaution was taken.

"Dad," Octavian said, exasperated. "I can do this on my own." He stumbled as they walked across the cobble stone ground. Gaius reached out to steady him.

"I know, Octavian," he said. "But this is your first time with crutches. I don't want you to trip and fall."

Octavian couldn't remember the last time when he'd heard his father so concerned about his wellbeing. Their relationship wasn't great, he'd admit to that. He stayed in Camp Jupiter for most of the year, only travelling into New Rome the odd weekend to see Gaius. He knew that if something drastic didn't happen they would become estranged in the future. Octavian would start his own family, and Gaius would at one point retire and settle down for an easy life. Their family dynamics were not the same, not since Calliope died. And Octavian was going to find out how much it had changed.

The house was, well, the house. It hadn't changed much. The counters in the kitchen were clean and spotless, the windows were open to allow the sweet spring breeze in, and a fresh vase of flowers sat on the table in the dining room. Odd. In past visits Octavian's father had never put a vase of flowers on the dining room table. They seldom ate in there. Why the sudden change?

Gaius closed the door and helped Octavian into the sitting room. Octavian sat down on the couch as his father propped a pillow under his injured leg. The effort he had put into walking had tired Octavian out – that and he was sitting in the sun. But before he could fall asleep, Gaius took the moment to say something.

"Octavian, are you awake?"

"Hmm."

"I'll take that as a yes." Gaius settled down into the nearest chair. "Marilyn Sommers is coming over for dinner tonight."

Octavian shifted on the couch. He turned his head to face his father. "Who?"

Gaius wrung his hands. "Marilyn Sommers. She's a . . . friend of mine. I've known her for a few years now."

Octavian frowned. "A friend? Or a girlfriend, dad?"

A moment of silence passed. Then two before Gaius decided to answer. "We're close," was all he said on the subject. "She's been helping me with the upkeep of the house."

Octavian looked up at the ceiling. His father was dating? Was that the blonde woman he'd seen that one day in the infirmary? It was weird. His father was seeing a woman that wasn't Calliope. He didn't know how he felt about it. He assumed he would be okay on the matter. Gaius could do whatever he wanted. If he wanted to date, then he could date.

"She's coming tonight?" he asked.

"Yes," Gaius said. "She is."

"That's fine."

Silence settled between them once more. Finally Gaius said he had to return to work. Octavian stayed in the sitting room to mull over what had been said.

* * *

Marilyn arrived promptly at four thirty. Gaius was not yet home, so it was an awkward greeting between son and girlfriend. There was of greeting of hello. Marilyn went to the kitchen to start preparing a meal. Octavian limped to his room, intending to stay there until Gaius returned.

Octavian, since Calliope's death, liked order in his life. Everything had to be neat, to be in its place. He did not like drastic change. What he liked was order, routine, unchanging habits. His room showed exactly that. The single bed was pressed against the wall into the corner. The sheets had been tucked under the mattress, not a wrinkle was present. A desk sat directly under the window. A jar containing several sharpened pencils (all pointy ends up) sat in the right corner closest to the wall. In the drawers could be found extra unsharpened pencils, an eraser, a ruler, and a pencil sharpener. Octavian did not use pens when writing. With a pencil one could erase the mistakes. Trying to get rid of the mistakes with a pen was messy. He always wrote with pencils. This type of order was found all over his room. Even with his dresser, which was just as neat as his desk.

He sat on his bed, carefully lifting his leg onto the bed. His clunky radio sat on the night table. He flicked it on and fiddled with the dials until he found a classical station. Classical music soothed him. It was the type of music Calliope liked to listen to on the days when she wasn't feeling well. He closed his eyes, letting the carefully composed strings of notes sweep over him, bringing him to a happier time.

* * *

His mother was dancing. She was out in the garden, twirling with her arms above her head. She was wearing a light blue dress that day. The skirts swished and swivelled about her form. There was a dirt smudge on her chin as well as her elbows and knees. She'd been tending the flowerbeds, pulling out the weeds to let the flowers and shrubs grow without any competition.

Calliope was the legacy child of Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, grain crops, fertility, and motherly relationships. She had such a big heart that there wasn't anything she couldn't love. She saw the good in everything. But that was on the good days.

Octavian stepped out into the light. An extension cord snaked along the ground and into the house. The other end was attached to the radio so that Calliope could listen to some music while she gardened.

His mother turned, reaching out with gloved hands and smiling. "Dance with me, my son."

Octavian couldn't resist. He stepped into the garden and took her hands in his. They danced together as the song rose to its climax. The wind swept through the leaves of the bushes and shrubs like the applause of a crowd. Octavian had never felt so alive, then the song ended. Calliope laughed and sat down on the low stone wall that surrounded the dirt and flowers. Octavian, laughing as well, sat down next to her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Such a wonderful tune," Calliope said. "I haven't danced like that in ages."

Once Octavian had gained his breath, he looked up into his mother's eyes. "Are you really here?"

Warm hands cupped his face, tilting his chin up. "Our minds can create illusions that we believe to be real, but some times are just illusions. You have to decide for yourself if this is an illusion or not. You can only trust in yourself."

Octavian frowned. "I don't get it. What are you trying to say?"

Calliope kissed his cheek. "You'll learn in time, my precious. You'll learn."

* * *

Octavian awoke to find himself back in his room. There was no garden, no summer breeze, no Calliope. It had simply been a dream. A pleasant dream, there's no mistaking that. He loved dreams about his mother. Pictures just weren't enough. In the dream realm they could talk to each other, see one another in the living flesh. He knew it wasn't real, but he took what he could get. There was very little these days that could actually make him happy and carefree as he once had been.

Footsteps approached his door. Knuckles softly rapped on his door. "Octavian?" It was his father's girlfriend. "Dinner's ready."

"I'll be there in a minute," he said.

He eased his legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. He turned off the radio, silencing Bach's beautifully crafted Cell Suite Number 1 by Bach. He reached for his crutches and hobbled out of the room and into the kitchen.

Marilyn had set the table in the dining room. A roasted chicken sat steaming on a platter with a bowl of mashed potatoes sitting next to it and another dish of cooked green beans. A gravy boat was filled to the brim, set beside the mashed potatoes. It was the best meal Octavian had seen in over a month. His mouth was watering with the thought of just tasting the chicken, letting the mashed potatoes melt in his mouth. Then his stomach coiled when he thought of his comrades who would never know the pleasure of a home cooked meal ever again. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

Octavian took his seat. Marilyn sat down across from him while Gaius took the head of the table. They thanked the gods for their bounty and care and picked up the utensils on the sides of their plates. Octavian took what he thought his stomach could manage, which wasn't much. Gaius and Marilyn noticed, but said nothing. They understood why.

During dinner, Octavian listened to his father and Marilyn bat a conversation back and forth. Marilyn was soft spoken and sweet. No wonder Gaius was seeing her. She was very similar to that of his deceased wife – which disturbed Octavian greatly.

Octavian knew little of the world of dating and love. Yes, he'd had girls bat their eyelashes at him. He'd flirted a few times, but dating? He never had a girlfriend. He was too obsessed with trying to be a likely candidate to become the next praetor. Some of the girls found that obsessiveness a little scary and avoided Octavian entirely. Others, the ones who wanted to be seen, found it attractive. But Octavian's mind was not on girls – at least not most of the time.

He watched the conversation between Gaius and Marilyn continued as he picked at his food. Gaius would smile and laugh at some of the things she said. Octavian hadn't seen his father so happy in a long time. At the same time he was glad his father was happy, but he also knew that no matter what happened, Marilyn could never replace his mother.

* * *

Dinner ended smoothly. Marilyn and Gaius cleaned up the dishes, leaving Octavian to do whatever he wanted. He wandered into his room, feeling tired. It was odd to feel so weak and helpless. As a Roman, Octavian was expected to be strong. He was born and taught to be a leader, to be independent. He never relied on anyone for anything – except when it came to the war games.

He was counting off the days when he would return to Camp Jupiter. He needed physical activity to take his mind off his problems. And when he was back in Camp Jupiter, he would no longer have this irritating cast. His leg desperately needed to be scratched, and he was unable to get at it.

Octavian shifted through his drawers, looking for something to wear for the night. He pulled out a ratty t-shirt and a pair of draw string pants. He took the clean clothing into the bathroom and drew a tub of steaming water. Then he remembered that he needed a plastic bag to cover his cast. He couldn't afford to let it get wet.

He limped down the stairs once more, into the kitchen. He heard his father in the sitting room, talking softly to Marilyn. He crossed the tiled floor as quietly as he could. The garbage bags were sitting under the sink. He pulled one out and returned to the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it.

After securing the garbage bag around his cast, he sank into the warm water. The steam rose into the air. Octavian rested his head against the back of the tub, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. The water slapped against the sides of the tub whenever he shifted. He could not hear the voices of Gaius and Marilyn. The bathroom was quiet – one could hear a pin drop. It was almost too quiet.

When something shuffled across the floor, Octavian opened his eyes and looked over. Nothing was there. He was alone. Just as he should be. He closed his eyes once more.

A foot stomped against the ground. Octavian looked up again. This time he was not alone. Seven demigods stood in his bathroom, crammed together, standing wherever there was space. The Romans were stone faced or slightly sympathetic. The Greeks, however, appeared irritated. The blonde Anton was pacing like a rat trapped in a very small cage. He stopped, arms crossed over his chest. He stepped towards the bathtub, calloused fingers clamping down on the rim of the tub. Octavian suddenly became aware of how vulnerable he was.

"How's that warm roasted chicken sitting in your gut, Octavian?" he sneered with an odd glint in his eyes. "Bet it's nice to be home again. You've got your father here, a nice woman to cook for you, a bed to sleep in."

Octavian looked away, closing his eyes. "They aren't here," he whispered. "It's just my imagination. They're not here."

Warm breath tickled the shell of his ear. "Oh, but we are, Octavian." It was a girl this time – either Rebecca or Jenna. "And we're not leaving until you help us out." She sounded a little bitterer than before.

"Hey," Ox said. "Leave him alone. He's been through enough as it is."

"Easy for you to say, Roman," said Carl. "You haven't been stuck in that place for six hellish months. I'd give anything to be out in the living world again. Hell, I'd take the Underworld for this."

Octavian dared to open his eyes. The Greeks did indeed look irritated. They were jumpy and twitchy. They wanted out of purgatory. The Romans were defending him, claiming he needed more time to heal and figure out the muddled mess of his head. Then they started arguing with one another. Octavian covered his ears, trying to cut out the noise. He needed quiet. He needed them to be gone.

He dunked his head under the water. Everything was muted down here. The words above the surface was garbled and jumbled by the time they reached Octavian's ears. Peace. He held his breath for as long as he dared. Then he had no choice but to surface for air.

He opened his mouth, gulping the air greedily. The demigods were gone. Octavian was alone once more. He made quick work of cleaning his body, wasting no chance lest they return and start arguing.

He snuggled down under his blankets. The warm water had sapped the remaining energy from his body. His eyelids felt like they were attached to heavy weights. He couldn't keep them open any longer.

Gaius asked for permission to enter. Octavian grunted in a reply. He felt the mattress dip when his father sat. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," Octavian said. "Clean."

Gaius smiled. "Good. Do you need anything before I go to bed? A glass of water? Something to eat?"

Octavian shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "I'm sure."

"Good." Gaius patted his knee then opened his mouth and said, "I've scheduled an appointment at Nix's office tomorrow in the afternoon for you."

Weariness forgotten, Octavian sat up. "Nix. The person mom always went to see. Why?"

"We're worried about you, Octavian," his father said. "I want to make sure you're okay – up here, that is." He tapped his head. Octavian understood. "Are you okay with that?"

No. "Yes," he said. "Sounds good to me."

"Alright. I'll leave you to your rest now." He stood. "Goodnight, Octavian."

"'Night, dad."

The door closed. The weariness returned. It took longer than expected for the demigod to fall asleep. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was not going to returning to Camp Jupiter any time soon.

* * *

**Review Comments:**

**Toner of ShadoWs: **The confusion should clear up in future chapters. You'll see what I have planned for our pal Octavian (heheheheh).

**Ariddle-Ascare:** Thanks for the warm welcome. I'll see how fast I can update now.

**Huntress Of The Sea:** Thanks for sticking with me. Trying to get back into the swing of things right now. It's not easy. My plate is just too full with ideas and writing and editing. Blegh. Seriously though, your reviews are appreciated.

**Artie Gallezi:** Oh, my friend, you shall see what I have in mind. Soon enough all will be revealed.

**There you have it, people. Another chapter done and posted. Please leave a review on your way out. Let me know what you think, possible plot twists you would like to see, and all other things related or unrelated to this story. Until next time, this is booknerd95 signing off.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I am so sorry for that long wait. I finally have time to update because I have a spare moment in my busy schedule. I hope you guys are still interested and will remain with me throughout this insane updating schedule. Need I remind you that updating will be VERY irregular. If it comes to summer time, yeah I'll definitely have more time to update. So we'll see. I hope this chapter is worth it to you guys. It'll explain a lot.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

At precisely two o'clock in the afternoon the next day, Gaius led his son through the twisting cobblestone streets of New Rome to Nix's office. Octavian kept pace as best he could with the crutches. The exercise would do him good—he wanted to get back to Camp Jupiter as quickly as possible. Having Marilyn in his house—not just making food, but also _staying _at the house—was bad enough. He sought escape and couldn't wait until he received his clean bill of health. He would be able to see his friends again and possibly get voted for praetorship this year. He had big plans, but he wasn't going to have it any other way.

"Need a break yet?" Gaius asked.

Octavian shook his head. "I can make it. How much further?"

"Next street over. Five minutes, perhaps?"

Octavian nodded. He could make it that far. Gritting his teeth, he followed his father further into the heart of New Rome. Gaius knocked on the door of Nix's apartment. She answered in no time.

"Right on time," she said and stepped off to the side. "I'll bring him back after we're done. I'm not sure how long this will take."

Gaius nodded and saw his son limp into Nix's apartment. "Just be easy on him," Gaius whispered to her. "I don't know how he's going to take this."

Nix nodded. "I understand. He's in good hands now." She closed the door and led Octavian into a small sitting room in the apartment. "It's not much," she said, "but it's something. Take a seat."

Octavian looked around and sat down in a rather lumpy looking couch. The springs were shot, so he sank down into it, but that made it comfortable. Even though it was a relatively short walk from Octavian's home to here, it had taken it out of him. He was in no condition to do much. It was going to take a long time until he gained back most of his strength.

"Would you like anything to drink or eat while you're here?" Nix asked from where she stood in the kitchen a room over.

"I'm fine," Octavian said. "But thank you."

Nix returned from the kitchen. She set a glass of water down in front of him anyway. She settled in an old and well used chair across from him. The ticking of a wall clock fills the silence as the odd dark purple eyes of Nix simply stared at Octavian. He knew she was studying him, trying to figure out if he was whacko after his time spent in the cabin. He wasn't that messed up. He was a bright boy. In a tough situation, he would step back, compartmentalize, and face the situation with a game plan. He could handle this.

"How are you feeling, Octavian?"

Game time.

"Good," he said. "I'm a little bit sore, but I guess that's understandable." He reached down and gently rubbed his broken leg. It itched terribly.

Nix smiled, and silence settled between them once more. Octavian had a feeling that this was going to be a very long meeting. But it was better than the alternative—spending the day at the house with Marilyn. How awkward would that be?

"I knew your mother," she continued. "Calliope and I were friends for many years. Starting from Camp Jupiter until, well, until she died."

"I know," Octavian said. "I remember you taking care of her when she got sick."

Nix had been very supportive as Calliope's health deteriorated. She had been there during the funeral and a few times after to support Gaius after he'd realized that he was a single parent. Octavian hadn't seen much of her since he went to the Camp Jupiter when he'd turned eleven.

"Yes," Nix mused. "Her sickness. Do you know what she was ill with?"

It wasn't a topic that Octavian was well versed in. Gaius never talked about it much, since he never truly did get over Calliope's death. "Not really," he answered. "I figured it was depression or bipolar disorder. Dad never talked about it much."

"He found it hard to deal with at times, I know," Nix said while nodding. "Your mother had schizophrenia. Do you know what that is?"

Octavian nodded mutely. Schizophrenia? His mother?

"She suffered all her life with it," Nix explained. "It didn't start getting bad until she was in her twenties and started dating your father. I managed to help her with some of the symptoms. She had medication with her most of the time, but then she would get out of control at times. If someone wasn't watching her, she would go off her meds. You would know when she was off of them."

Octavian thought back to when he was younger. He remembered the times when his mother and he had a tea party in the garden with Octavian's teddy bears. That had been a fun afternoon. Calliope had been so carefree and fun. She'd made up the best stories and names for each of the stuffed animals. Then there were the other times when she was just Calliope, a regular mother who tucked her son in at night and always wiped the smudges of dirt off his face.

"It got worse when you were eight, I guess. Your father worried about her, we all worried about her. I tried to help her, give her what she needed. For a time it seemed like it was working. The therapy and the pills worked, but I think it was a ruse." Nix sat back in the chair, deep in thought for a moment before she delivered a bombshell. "Your mother ended her life, Octavian. She managed to get her hands on some cyanide. I'm not sure where she got it from, but there's a lot of stuff in New Rome that you can get more easily than in the mortal world."

Octavian stared at her incredulously. Calliope had killed herself? Suddenly he was thrown back to the day when he'd seen her on the balcony. Everything was clear now. It made sense, but it was no less hurtful. Calliope had killed herself. She'd committed suicide. She'd willingly given up her life.

_Do you want to know why your mother killed herself? Because she knew what you were going to become when you got older. She saw you turn into a monster, and she wasn't able to live with that knowledge. So you, Octavian, are the sole reason for your mother's death._ Greg's words were ringing in Octavian's ears. It was all starting to make sense. Puzzle pieces were clicking together in his head.

"Did she . . ." Octavian didn't know what to say. It was hard to get the words out while his brain was trying to make sense of everything. "Did she kill herself because of—me?"

Nix sat up straight and frowned. "Where would you get a notion like that?"

Octavian blinked. Tears were beginning to build up, almost ready to spill over. He wasn't yet ready to talk about his ordeal with the Greek, so he decided to play it safe. "It's just something that I've thought about over the past few months," he said.

"She didn't kill herself because of you," Nix assured him. "I know her about as good as your father. She loved you so much. It was her illness that caused her death. You are not guilty, okay?" Octavian managed to nod. "Good."

"Why are you bringing all of this up?" Octavian asked. "I don't understand what this has to do with me."

"I'm getting to that part," Nix said. "I just had to explain the history and where it could lead if you ignore the signs."

"What signs? What's this about?"

Nix crossed her legs. "Schizophrenia tends to be genetic. It ran in your mother's side of the family and has been passed down onto you. Now, you don't show any tendencies of a schizophrenic break, but after what you've been through, your father wanted to make sure that you were going to be all right. Schizophrenia happens to affect males in their early twenties. I know you aren't there yet, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Am I going to quick for you? We can stop right now, if you want."

Octavian's mind was reeling. It was almost too much information for him to take in all at once. He had schizophrenia? Where was all this coming from? Why hadn't his father told him any of this? Nothing made sense anymore.

He reached for the glass in front of him, taking a deep drink before setting the glass down. He heard a footstep across the room. He looked over, seeing only Ox and Anika standing in the corner. Octavian closed his eyes. He had to keep himself calm. _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breath out._

"Octavian," Nix said. "Are you all right?"

Octavian didn't respond. He felt the couch dip as Nix settled herself beside him.

"Look at me," she said firmly.

Octavian opened his eyes and turned his head to face her.

"I need you to be honest with me, Octavian. You were kidnapped with three other campers. Only you survived. It was a traumatic event to go through, and that is a trigger for schizophrenia. Are you seeing things, Octavian? Are you having troubles determining what is real and what isn't?"

Octavian didn't know if he should answer truthfully or not. What if this got back to his friends? What would they think if they knew he was seeing seven dead demigods? He couldn't stop thinking about his reputation. He didn't want to be known Crazy Octavian. What would this do to his future career as a praetor? Campers may not want a praetor who can't keep his act together.

"Octavian." Nix drew him out of his thoughts. "I need to know what's going on in your head. Schizophrenia can get bad if it's left untreated. Tell me what happened in the cabin."

It terrified Octavian to speak out about his experience and near death. He wanted nothing to do with it. It was all in the past, could they not just leave it alone? He wished to move on, but the new of his mother's—and his—scared him. He didn't want to go insane, so what choice did he have, really? He opened his mouth and told his tale. Every single horrifying detail passed his lips Nix listened closely, trying to pinpoint the moment where everything went wrong.

"I know you were possessed," Nix said. "Do you mind telling me what happened then?"

Octavian took a sip from the glass of water before he continued. His throat felt particularly dry. "There was a coffin in one of the rooms. It was holding the pieces of a . . . titan."

"A titan?" she asked. "Which titan?"

"Saturn," he whispered. "The people who-who captured us wanted to us as an . . . as a host for Saturn. The other three didn't make the transition. He br—" Octavian halted. There before him, in Nix's living room, stood the seven deceased demigods. They did nothing, said nothing. They merely stood, watching Octavian with their lifeless eyes.

"Octavian." Nix's voice was so distant now. She barely seemed to matter.

"Clock's ticking, Octavian," Anton reminded him.

"You need to hold up your end of the deal," said Emily.

"What deal?" Octavian asked. "I don't understand."

"You will, soon enough," Ox said.

"OCTAVIAN!" shouted Nix. "Look at me!"

Octavian blinked. The demigods vanished. He turned to Nix. He blinked a few times. "Wha-what happened?" he asked.

"You don't know?" Nix's brow furrowed. "You were talking to yourself. You looked as if there were people standing in this room. Octavian, are you seeing things? Are you seeing people?"

He couldn't exactly hide the problem now, not after that episode. So he nodded in earnest. "I see people who are dead. They-they follow me around. They want something from me."

"What do they want?"

"Whenever Saturn po-possessed me, I was sent to this other place," he explained. "It was white and gray and empty. Nothing was there."

Nix nodded and stood up. "I've studied possession before. I've seen the effects it can have on the body." She wandered out of the room to return with a rather large book. She flipped through it and came to a page and sat down in the chair across from Octavian. "Disembodied spirits are sent to this nether region when another soul inhabits their body. If the possessor succeeds in possessing the body, the spirit who is pushed out remains in this region until the possessor is sent to the Underworld for judgement. Only a god's intervention can save the souls trapped in the nether region."

Octavian shifted uncomfortably on the couch. His friends and the Greeks would be trapped in that awful purgatory until Saturn was banished to the Underworld. How long would that take? They wanted to pass on into the Underworld. They were expecting him to find a way to get them out of purgatory. How would he be able to accomplish that feat without the help of a god?

"They want me to get them to the Underworld," Octavian said. "They want me to help them get out. That's why they follow me around."

"When did you start seeing these hallucinations?" Nix asked.

"When they brought me in, the first day I was back."

"Octavian, I hope you know that what you're seeing aren't the true spirits of those who died."

Octavian looked up at her. "_What?"_

Nix only nodded. "What you see is because of the schizophrenia and also a bit of survivor's guilt. You were the only survivor from a terrible tragedy. The things you see are not the spirits from the nether region. They cannot travel in and out of it. They will remain there until the situation is resolved. There is nothing you can do for them."

* * *

**Review Comments:**

**P.S.A: **Glad you like the story. Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoy the rest of it.

**Huntress Of The Sea: **Most of my time is taken up by editing. I hope to get into publishing and editing after school. Plus I have school work to worry about, so yeah, that's my life for the next few months. I have a lot in store for Octavian, the situation with his dad will play a part into how he evolves into THE Octavian that is in the series.

**Please don't forget to review! I love reviews and they do fuel my passion for this story. **


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